A Man Like Me Can Never Change
by KittensWithDaggers
Summary: She wanted a friend. He needed one. One day, the fearsome, ruthless Inspector Javert meets a young girl alone in the street. Elisabet was idealistic and young, and they awakened within each other dark memories and loneliness that were held at bay for years. But how could they trust each other if they could never trust themselves?
1. Chapter 1

The rain poured relentlessly as the dark figure emerged from the Seine carrying a heavy mass. Her clothes were freezing and heavy from the combination of rain and river water and she struggled to keep the hair out of her face. When she finally believed she had gotten to safe enough ground, she dropped the unconscious inspector on the ground. She looked hopelessly at his lifeless face as possible solutions flew in and out of her head. Nobody would hear her calling for help thanks to the rushing of the river and the boom of the thunder. Her shop was too far away; if she tried to run there to get something to help, by the time she got back he might be… well, she did not like to think about it. Instead she beat her fists against his chest as she had seen her father do to her little brother on long ago family trips to the beach in an effort to expunge the water.

Soon the tears from her eyes mingled with the rainwater and she turned away with a childish fear that she would drown him completely if her tears fell on him. She tried removing the soaked clothing from his body and in vain started shouting his name. She felt herself growing weaker and her heart raced faster and faster as the memories of their first encounter came flooding back, on a night almost as rainy as this…

…

"Shit." Elisabet swore as she tripped on the cobblestone street. She lifted up a pant leg to reveal a bloody knee, and she ripped a piece of her shirt to use as a bandage. The night was pitch-black and she had no idea where she was going- as if things weren't bad enough it had started to rain as well. The young girl walked slowly forward, her eyes adjusting to the night. Didn't she pass that bakery already?

"Hello there little girl." She held back a scream as a voice accompanied by the smell of rotting meat and alcohol came from behind her.

"What do you want?" Elisabet turned to the voice and tried to not betray her fear.

"Wandering around at night all alone? Surely a little girl needs a strong male companion with her." The drunken attacker took her by the outstretched wrist and pushed her against a wall, to which she responded with a kick to his shin. As she tried to run she slipped on the wet stones again and onto the same knee. She cried out in pain as the man lifted her up. "Ohhh, gotta teach this young whore some manners, don't I?"

She screamed for help and before the man could do anything else, the sound of many hooves pounding on stone gave way to a strong voice breaking through the rain.

"What is the meaning of all this?" The man dropped Elisabet and stared up at the four officers on horseback, their lanterns shining through the rain.

"Well, buddy-"

"I am not your friend." The same voice cut sharply. "I am Inspector Javert of the Montreuil-sur-Mer police and you will address me as such."

"Well, erm, Inspector, y'see, this little urchin come beggin to me for money, see, and when I refused, she done attacked me."

"That is not true!" Elisabet protested, stomping her foot on the ground. "I was walking home and he grabbed me, I tried to fight but I fell, this drunkard-"

"Watch your tongue, slut!"

"After you cut yours, bastard!" the man lunged for her again but this time Inspector Javert blocked him on his horse.

"I have heard enough. Clearly neither scum is quite free of blame. Take the man to the jail, I will take the girl-"

"I'm not scum! My father is Christoph Barbier, the carpenter of the town. I wouldn't be surprised if he built your jail!"

"The jail was built half a century ago."

"Well… well then you'd better get a new one!" The inspector rolled his eyes and began tying a rope around her wrists. "Don't you tie me up I'm telling the truth!"

"I have never seen a Mademoiselle Barbier in this town and I have been here for several months."

"I just got here a few weeks ago, I lived with my aunt and uncle and cousins because my father couldn't be bothered to raise a child so he waited until I was seventeen to send for me. Truth be told I'll be seventeen in six months, but he doesn't know and I just hate my cousins and their cats. Father says that he was just too busy with work to give me attention as a child, but I know otherwise- ow, not so tight!" All the while she had been talking, Javert had been busying himself with tying the rope around her wrists to ensure that she would not chance an escape. Without a word, he got on his horse and tugged her along. He did not see the need to go any slower for her- she was probably just another lying street urchin. Before long he heard faint gasps and cries behind him as the girl started to lag.

"What is the matter now." He asked impatiently.

"Before you came I fell on my knee, and then when that man attacked me I fell on it again. It's bleeding and it really hurts." Elisabet hunched her shoulders and looked up at him with her saddest eyes. "Do you think I could ride on the horse with you, Inspector? I promise I won't try and get away."

After a pause, Javert looked her over and consented with an "Oh, very well." Soon they were traveling again, with her arms around his waist behind him.

"So you're a police man?"

"Yes."

"That must be fun."

"Hm."

"How old are you?"

"That is irrelevant."

"I say you're in your late thirties. What's your name?"

"I am Inspector Javert of the-"

"Oh yes yes I know all of that. I mean what's your first name? Mine's Elisabet. You can call me Lilybet though, that's what I let people who I like call me."

"What cause do you have to like me?"

"You saved me." She said simply.

Javert was glad she couldn't see his face turn pink. He almost felt bad that he would have to put her in jail once her little ruse with the carpenter was unraveled. "If you are who you say you are, then what were you doing out in the street so late?"

"A girl from my class invited me to her house for tea, but I think it was a joke because she made fun of my pants and shirt and said I looked like a boy. So I stormed out and tried to find my way home, but I got lost."

"And why do you go around in pants?"

"Why do you?"

"I warn you child, do not be insolent-"

"I'm not! Do you have children?"

"No."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"You must lead a lonely life. I do too. But one day, I'll meet my true love, and we'll get married and raise children and live happily ever after. Don't you ever wish for that?"

"My love is my work and my happily ever after will be once I pass through the gates of paradise to be with the Lord."

"Don't be so stiff! Like I said, I think you're just lonely. I'll be your friend since you saved me."

"I do not need street urchins as friends."

"Hell, how many times do I need to tell you that I'm not a street urchin? I-" the rest of her sentence was cut off by a loud sneeze, "-I think I'm getting sick. Will you take me to the soup shop?"

Javert was completely thrown off by her brazen attitude. "No!"

"How about when you find out that I'm not lying? Then you can take me for soup on some other day."

Javert grunted in response.

"My father's shop is this one- just there. With the fire in the window. We live upstairs."

"Now we can end this little charade of yours." Javert slid off of his horse and helped Elisabet do the same. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and led her to the door and knocked, and a short, chubby, balding man in his late forties opened the door.

"Good evening father." Elisabet greeted him, swinging slightly as Javert held her up.

"Monsieur Barbier, I hate to disturb you at this hour, but we found this child in a scuffle on the street. She claims that she is your daughter."

"What? What are you doing out I thought you were at one of your classmate's houses? Get inside and get out of those wet clothes immediately, Lilybet. Thank you Javert, yes, she is mine."

"Don't call me that!" Elisabeth retorted as she wriggled out of Javert's grip and stepped inside. "Told you, Inspector. Would you like to come inside for some tea and rest?"

"You've caused enough trouble, child. Leave the inspector alone."

"He's cold and damp too!"

"Enough, I said!"

Elisabet ran inside and quickly reemerged holding a roughly sewn dark blue tarp. She ran outside and draped it over the inspector's shoulders.

"Take this against the rain as my thanks. I believe you owe me soup, Javert."

"Pups with big mouths and no claws best keep out of the dark." He retorted before getting back on his horse and riding away into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: **__**I was feeling sentimental tonight, so forgive any OOC there may be for Javert. I don't think there is any but if there is I promise it will not be a problem later on! Enjoy and review please! Happy New Years everyone! :)**_

The continuous autumn sunshine had finally, after days, dried up the rain from the storm. The clock struck four and Elisabet waved goodbye to the sisters as she gathered her books at the end of her class. She uncomfortably shifted her underskirt as she walked out of the church's classroom- after the little incident in the rain the week before, her father had established certain "house rules"; for instance, she was not allowed outside after sundown, and all of her 'boy clothes' were thrown out- at least, that was what her father thought. The next day Elisabet had packed them up and went to the docks teeming with homeless and handed them all out save for the pair she wore that night, which she had hidden away.

All of the other girls walked out in groups about their business, giggling away. Elisabet took her friend, a new Swiss girl named Gretchen, and took a stroll through the sun-soaked marble halls of the church house. Gretchen was her age, and Elisabet liked her because she did not talk much (this may be due to the fact that she knew very little French- Elisabet did not very much care about the reason, only that she was a quiet girl and a good listener). She was a doll of a girl with a cheerful, round face with large chocolaty eyes, framed by long, blonde hair which she frequently kept in braids. No sound was heard but the chirping of birds in the distance and the soft taps of their footsteps as the girls walked arm in arm.

"God in heaven, hallowed be thy name-"

Elisabet stopped in her tracks. She knew that deep, solemn voice. With a small smile she led her friend to the door of the chapel, where she laid her eyes upon the back of a dark blue uniform, with a policeman's hat lying next to him. She had not seen Javert since that night, and even then she had barely seen him through the thick of the dark and rain.

"You can go, I know him, I'm going to wait for him so that I can say hello." She whispered. Gretchen, who was beginning to be a little bit too perceptive for Elisabet's liking, gave a knowing smile and waved goodbye. Once her friend was gone, she crept silently up to the pew a few rows from where he was kneeling and waited, listening to him pray. He had sandy, light brownish hair with a few greys here and there. His shoulders were broad and he looked, from the back, physically strong. In short, he looked like a soldier. After what seemed an eternity to her, he rose and picked up his hat, and began turning to go on his way.

"Inspector." She said in a deep voice. He jumped in surprise, unsheathing his rapier. After looking around for a few seconds, he laid eyes on Elisabet. For a moment, he seemed not to recognize her; however, as comprehension dawned on him he sheathed his sword and his look of suspicion turned to one of annoyance.

"You." He said curtly.

"Come now, Javert, that is no way to greet your friend!"

"I told you, you are not my-"

"You said that the street urchin wasn't your friend! I am- wait, but do you remember my name?"

"I will not play little games in God's own house."

"Then let's walk."

"Were you going to pray?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then what were you doing there?"

"Surprising you. Before you think me entirely sacrilegious, I'll have you know that I was here earlier this morning. The sisters always lead us in morning prayer before class starts."

"You go to school in the church."

"I do."

"That is good."

Elisabet smiled and walked over to him. "Won't you offer me your arm, Monsieur? Let us go play little games outside."

"No!" he said, incredulous. He began walking outside, yet when he got to his horse, he found himself blocked by her. "Step aside, child."

"Do you remember my name?"

"I am an officer of the law-"

"-and I am an innocent civilian. Do you remember my name?" Before he could open his mouth, a nun came walking out of the church, calling Elisabet.

"Yes Sister Lucille?" she asked politely, straightening herself. Javert thought she looked rather ladylike at that moment, her brown curls cascading down her shoulder and her shoulders straight back, revealing a thin, long neck. He shook his thoughts off of that when the nun turned to him.

"Oh, Inspector Javert, hello, is… is there some kind of trouble?"

He bowed low before answering, "Not at all, Sister. I was merely praying in the chapel."

"And Elisabet is not bothering you at all? Let me know and she will be taken care of accordingly, I know she can be rather brazen-"

"The child and I were just conversing, thank you."

Elisabet cleared her throat, "What may I do for you, Sister?"

"Ah, yes, your father sent a message- he will not be able to escort you from class today due to business he has in the next town over and reminds you that you must be home before sundown. You had better hurry, then." And with that, the woman shuffled off. Elisabet looked nervously to the sky where streaks of orange were being overcome by dark blue and black. Javert noticed the fleeting look of sadness when the nun told her that her father would not be coming home for a time. He felt a sense of pity for the girl- she really did seem as lonely as she said. He kept looking at her face, at the little features that were not visible at night. She had large, expressive, grayish blue eyes set on a heart shaped face with a long, somewhat crooked nose that must have been broken at least once and sprinkled with freckles.

He straightened himself and looked down at her. "You had best get home, girl."

She looked up at him and he caught the look of apprehension that ran across her face. "Oh, yes, ah… I suppose I'll go…" and so she bowed her head and started walking quickly away.

"Elisabet." He called. She stopped walking. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

She turned around, indignant. "I am not!"

"The law dictates that I must ensure the safety of all."

"I do not need your help, thank you. My home is but a ten minute walk." She answered civilly. He shrugged and began untying his horse, readying to go on his patrol. He heard her steps stop, then quickly became louder.

"Javert, could you issue one of your officers to escort me to my home?"

He smiled smugly, "Come, I believe I remember where it is."

"You won't take your horse?"

"It is but a short walk, as you said. No need to tire the poor thing out, I have a long patrol tonight."

"Oh, first-"she ran back to the horse and pulled an apple out of her bag, and fed it to the stallion while petting his head tenderly, and then returned to her escort.

They first began walking in silence as the streets quickly darkened.

The sound of voices boomed suddenly as a crash as the door of a bar opened and a large man came tumbling out, drunkenly singing a song at the top of his lungs. Elisabet grabbed onto Javert's arm in sudden fear- she was still uneasy about walking around at night, especially around the drunk; a week was not enough to cure that. He tensed up and his free hand flew to his sword hilt, but before long the man lumbered back to join his fellows. After a few moments Elisabet relaxed her grip, but did not remove her arm from around his. Javert relaxed and resumed their walk.

He turned down to her, "You are safe with me."

"Thank you, Inspector." She smiled.

"I remembered your name." he remarked.

"You cheated, the Sister said it!"

"I never heard her say Lilybet."

There was a pause as her grip tightened on his arm in what was now gratitude, not fear. She greatly appreciated his trying to make her feel better. His arms were thick and hard, she noted. She could not help but feel safe with him- he was a police officer, after all. "And what is your name?" she asked.

He paused. "I do not think it proper-"

"Oh damn proper. You're my friend."

"Why must you keep insisting on that?"

"Why must you keep insisting against it?"

"Because I am the law. My only friend is duty."

"You really are lonely."

"You cannot presume things about my life."

"Let me help you. I'm lonely too."

Javert could not find a response, and so they silently looked at each other for a few minutes, a sense of kinship and understanding that neither was quite ready for passing between them. He turned away again.

"Your father- he does this to you a lot?"

"I've only been here about a month, but he's done this a few times, yes. It doesn't really matter though, I prefer being alone in the house. When he's not ordering me about it's just like I don't exist. My uncle is more of a father to me. He knows that his kids are brats so he and I were very close. I still write him whenever I can, and I miss him very much."

"And your mother?"

"She died." She said quickly, leaving it on an air of finality that told him that it was not a subject she would speak on. "What of your life? If you will not tell me your first name then at least tell me about your family."

"I have none." He echoed her air.

"And you will not tell me further?"

"Perhaps another time. I believe that this is your home?" he stopped in front of her door, turning to face her.

"Oh, yes… will you come inside for a cup of coffee? You said that you have a long watch ahead."

"I do not have the time-"

She grabbed his arms and turned her large, pleading eyes on him. "Please? You were so kind to walk me home. Ten minutes, no more."

"There is work to be done."

"Could you at least come inside and make sure there are no criminals hiding inside?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Five minutes."

She smiled wide and pranced inside, right into the kitchen and began making coffee. Javert looked around. It was small but quite comfortable looking, with woven carpets covering the wood floor and feather cushions on the chairs. It was barely two minutes before she came out with a large, steaming cup.

"Sit down, sit down!" she led him to a small chair by the newly lit fire and handed him the cup.

"My thanks." He answered.

Elisabet took him in fully for the first time as he sat drinking. He was a strong looking man who never seemed quite relaxed. He had a nice looking face, and could even be called quite handsome if he smiled and eased up. His closely cropped beard was the same light brown as his hair, a few gray hairs popping up here and there that she suspected were stress-related. What caught her attention most, however, were his eyes. They were a pale green that never seemed to rest; they were always contemplating something, always suspecting trouble around every corner. She wondered how many criminals had been unraveled by those eyes.

"You are thirty five." She declared.

He looked across at her, and corrected her. "Thirty seven."

She clapped her hands together joyfully. "Well there's something I've learned about the mysterious Javert!"

"You are sixteen." Was all he said.

"Almost seventeen." She corrected. Elisabet was pleased to see that he finished the coffee fully, but when he stood up a worry hit her.

"Wait." She said, walking up to him. She looked up at Javert with concern in her eyes, and she put her hand on his arm again. "Will you be safe?"

The simple question caught Javert off guard. He looked at her, confused. Nobody had ever worried about him. "Of course I will." He answered still confused.

She turned red and looked down at her feet. "I only ask- I know you are a competent officer, but you don't know who could be out there in the dark… especially for you, I could… I…"

"- could walk me back to my horse?" he raised his eyebrows, mildly amused.

She looked up again, fiercely saying, "I'm only trying to help you!"

"I know," he said, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder, "but criminals have more to fear of Javert than he does of them. However...if I could trouble you for a lamp, that would be ideal."

"Of course!" she exclaimed, running into another room. Javert didn't know what to make of the girl- at times she was indignant, then shy, then brazen, then kind… normally he could figure out a person within minutes, but this girl was confusing beyond belief. Nevertheless, he somehow knew that this would not be their last encounter. She came running back into the room after a few seconds, holding a lamp covered on all sides by glass, with no candle within. She took it to the fire and used a stick to set the oil within on fire.

"I trust this will work?"

"I do not require such an expensive-"

"Hush, you are an officer of the law, it is a small price to pay for keeping the town safe. Also, this is for your horse." She pulled out a rather large carrot. "What's his name?"

"He has none."

"Well name him, or I will. Everything deserves a name."

"I will think on it." Elisabet thought that she saw a shadow of a smile on his face. She walked him to the door and opened it for him.

"I shall return the lamp as soon as I can."

"Be safe, Javert."

"I bid you goodnight, Mademoiselle Lilybet." He did a low bow and brushed his lips across her hand. She smiled and curtseyed in response and stood at the door as she watched the little light disappear.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: **__**To answer a question I was posed: it is a weird combination of movie-verse and the stage show. Movie Javert and Valjean are closer to what I am envisioning, particularly looks-wise, however I am drawing the original idea I had out of the stage musical. Though I must admit I was charmed by the 2012 film so I may be utilizing that more. **_

"Kick it here, over here!"

There was something sweet to be said about the young. They never had a care or worry; they had yet to realize that living in the tunnel under the bridge was a bottomless hell for all those who society has cast out. The poor children, Elisabet thought, were the most innocent ones- they were too young to know the sad lives that like as not awaited them, and too low in society to be constrained by rules and airs. The group playing in the square on this Sunday afternoon, however, was her favorite. Pierre was a thin boy of twelve who liked to boast of most anything: the fish he caught in the river, how fast he could sprint barefoot, the new words he had just learned to read… most of all he liked to brag about his eight year old sister. Mona was a black haired angel who cried if she stepped on an insect. She had a spot on her nose that was perpetually covered in black smudge, but that did nothing to deter from her uncommonly delicate features. Lastly were the ten year old twins, Enrique and Adrien with mops of blonde hair and feminine, hazel eyes. They shared a friendship that could only be experienced by identical twins, and often found merriment in switching roles and assuming the other's person for the day.

It was this group of children that Elisabet now sat on the corner laughing with as she watched them kick their little ball made of rags from one to the other, hoping to trick each other with false plays and swift passes. She smiled as a ball was kicked too hard by either Adrien or Enrique and bounced off of Mona's head so that she fell flat on her bottom with a look of utter confusion. Pierre instantly launched into a defensive pose and confronted the twin while his brother took his side. Foreseeing possible damage, Elisabet quickly ran over to the boys, breaking up their squabble.

"She's fine, it's only a game!" she reasoned.

"He hit my sister!" Pierre retorted.

"He's attacking my brother!" the non guilty twin spit back.

"Stop it, stop it!" Elisabet laughed. "Mona's fine, see? You cannot start fighting in the middle of the street! Are you little boys or little men?"

"I'm a man!" a twin said.

"I am too!" his brother stepped forward.

Elisabet smiled and ruffled their hair, "My little men."

Pierre pouted at them and walked back to his sister. He picked up the ball and threw it in the direction of the boys.

It missed and hit a passing gentleman.

Elisabet ushered the children a few feet away and urged them to stay put and stay quiet. If it was her who had done it, it would have been a different story; however, it was the children, who had no money or status to save them from a savage beating if the man had taken offense to the hit. She approached the tall, thin man and said in her most earnest and polite voice, "Monsieur, I am so sorry, the children were only playing, they meant no harm, please-"

He turned around, holding the little sphere of rags. It was the mayor.

Elisabet was horrorstruck. Not only had they hit a man of status, but they hit Monsieur Madeleine, mayor of the town. She removed her hat, allowing her honey brown locks to cascade down her shoulders. She curtseyed and began apologizing profusely.

Then he began to chuckle. Elisabet relaxed as she saw the warmth in his dark eyes and saw his kind smile.

"No need for apologies, I understand, no problem at all. Children are children, no?" he stooped down and threw Mona the ball, who caught it in her little hands and smiled a smile that would make the sun rise.

"Will you play with us, Monsieur? The more the merrier." She offered. Elisabet shushed her promptly, to which the mayor laughed harder.

"I wish I could, little one, but I have a fair amount of business to attend to in my factory today. Another time, surely." He rose again to address Elisabet. "These are your siblings?"

Caught off guard by this assumption, she could not stop herself from stuttering for a few brief moments before answering yes. Monsieur Madeleine, however, took a harder look at her.

"No, I know your face… you cannot be Elisabet? Elisabet Barbier? Daughter to Christoph, the carpenter?"

She swore under her breath. "Yes, sir." She said, ready for admonishment.

"You look like him somewhat. You do not think it unfitting to wear such… garments?" he asked her, referring to her loose white shirt and last pair of brown trousers.

"No," she said defensively, "I like coming down here with the children, sometimes I help their parents. I… I do not like getting noticed, the dresses are awfully uncomfortable. Why do people spend so much money to be weighed down with so much useless cloth and wire and fitted like dolls?"

"A very fine point. I take it your father does not know of this?" Everyone in town knew that Christoph Barbier shared the widely accepted status quo- as an accomplished carpenter and merchant, he did not see it fit to consort with anyone below upper-middle class.

"Please don't tell him." She pleaded earnestly.

The mayor gave her an understanding smile, "Very well. Stay away from dangers, Mademoiselle Barbier. I bid you and your 'siblings' good day." He bowed and tipped his hat to the children, who were watching the whole exchange warily.

"Good day, Monsieur l'Mayor." She curtseyed to him in return and watched him walk away. Elisabet then turned to the children. "I think that should conclude our games today. Come, I'll walk you all back and buy you some bread loaves for dinner.

After leaving the children with their food, Elisabet proceeded back to the cobblestone road to go finish the day with reading by the fountain.

It would have been a perfect day if she had not been stopped in her tracks by a long, pained cry she heard from a neighboring street.

_**Closing notes**__**: Sorry this chapter lacked Javert for all of you fans of the poor creature, but I assure you he is quite prominent in the ensuing ones! Reviews would mean so much, thank you! :)**_

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	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: **__**To answer another question I was posed: I am unable to update every day, but I try to as quickly as I can. This one is a bit darker, but hey, everything has ups and downs, right? Reviews keep me going, so if you liked it, don't be shy! :D Enjoy!**_

As any teenager thinks, Elisabet thought she knew it all. She knew how the world worked and how things went on, like she really "got" life.

Then there are times when the hard truth comes out.

She followed the sound of the wailing and could not believe her eyes. It was a man- a poor man she had seen many times- she had never spoken to him or even smiled at him, yet here he was, curled up on the stone street while being struck blow after blow by a man Elisabet gathered was a shopkeep from his apron and the small fruit stand not far away. Her eyes took in the amassing crowd: faceless, soulless figures that stood and did nothing. It was as if they were watching a performance, one so utterly boring that they remained expressionless and silent the whole time.

She decided then that she was not a figure.

Elisabet ran full speed in between the savage and the wretch, getting into the fray so quickly that she caught the slightest edge of a blow on her cheekbone. It throbbed as she screamed stop at the shopkeeper.

The man stood full height in furious confusion; he was a small, stout man, a few inches shorter than her. "What are you, the shit's daughter? Wife? Sister? Whore? I don't care, this thief is going to get what's coming to him."

"What did he do?" she stood defensively in front of the curled up ball of rags and bloody flesh. Though his anger was fit to burst, it was clear that this man did not believe in hitting women. That, at least, was fortunate.

"None of your business, girl!" he was in the process of shoving her aside when the sound of hoofbeats charged to the area. Elisabet smiled to herself. Javert. Now justice would be served.

She did indeed look up and smile when she saw the inspector, looking powerful and stern at the head of his men.

His glance was so unfamiliar and quick that she thought he did not recognize her.

"What is the trouble here?" he asked the shopkeeper.

"This lunatic was beating this defenseless old man out in the damn street!" Nobody seemed to hear her.

"Javert, thank God, arrest this man! He is a thief!"

The poor man finally spoke up in a tearful and cracked voice, "Please, Monsieur, I would have paid you some day, these apples are for my children, they have not eaten in days, it is only three apples, surely you would not miss-"

"Quiet, criminal. You got them all crushed and bruised, there's no way I can get them apples back" The grocer hissed.

"Three apples?! That's all? You're insane! If they were starving-"

"-Men, arrest this garbage, take him to the jail for sentencing. Monsieur, I apologize for your misfortune, but I assure you that justice will be served in court once you file a full report." Elisabet could not believe this. She knew that Javert had a reputation as a cold, harsh man- she had even witnessed some of it on the night of their first encounter. However, she had never seen this man firsthand.

"Wait!" she shouted, throwing herself protectively in front of the 'criminal', "Please, I'll pay you, pay you double, would that buy the apples? Would that remove his debt?"

The monster considered it for a moment before nodding his oily head and grudgingly saying, "I suppose." Grateful, Elisabet immediately went to her pocket.

Nothing.

She went through her sack. There was barely enough for two apples. She whispered "oh, no" to herself while holding up the money. The shopkeeper, angrier and more frustrated than ever, spit at her feet and began walking away.

"No, no you can't, this is not justice!" She protested, getting in front of the wretch and Javert's men.

"What do we do with this one, Inspector?" one of the officers asked.

This time her gray eyes met his pale green ones, and at that moment she hardly recognized the man who had let her ride on his horse on the way home. They were cold, calculating eyes that seemed to give off… what was he looking at her with? Was it anger? Was it _disappointment?! _How dare he, she thought, outraged.

"Do what you must." Was all he said, his eyes never leaving hers until her turned his horse and rode away.

Javert, meanwhile, could not understand what had hit him. It was almost as if he had to force himself to be impartial on the girl. But how could she be so stupid? The man was a thief, and she was defending him? The ignorant child knew nothing of the world, and the only way to learn was through punishment. He didn't believe she was in the devil's hands, however. She was naïve, so he would take it upon himself to personally speak with her when he had finished his patrol. Then she would go back to being the cheeky child who loved to get in the way.

But those eyes.

Her blue and gray eyes had stared at him in hopelessness, in outrage, in utter betrayal- like a lamb that knew it was being led to slaughter. Her misunderstanding had hurt her, yet the mysterious guilt from the accusatory glance would not be shaken off so easily.

Still, some small part of him hoped, as he lightly fingered the deep blue tarp that sat folded in his saddlebag, that his men would not be hard on her. He resolved to see her tomorrow after he class was done to speak with her.

* * *

The only three sounds in the dark, stone cell were these: a steady drip of water from a pipe that had gone loose who knows how long ago, the echo of the guard's footsteps outside, and the ragged breathing of the man Elisabet had tried so hard to save.

_Javert's justice._ She thought to herself, _justice my ass._

After he had galloped away, she stopped all resistance. There were three guards and each taller than the last, and all towering over her. She had also been so stricken by Javert's betrayal that she lost the will to fight. How could such a fair, righteous man do this? Obviously his reputation throughout the town was not undeserved.

Elisabet now sat in the cell, allowing the tears that she fought to hard to hold back flow freely down her face. She sat hunched in a corner by herself, too ashamed to face the poor soul she had gotten thrown in jail because she did not have her money with her.

She could not tell how many hours she had been there before light came flooding in as the door opened.

"You there, girl, Inspector Javert sends for you in his office." A cold voice said.

"Then let him come get me." She mumbled stubbornly.

"I don't ask twice, girl."

"Good then, save your breath because I won't be coming."

Quick footsteps ended with her being yanked so hard to her feet that a searing pain made her blind for a second, causing her to fall back down again.

This time she did not fight her fate and allowed herself to be dragged by two men out of the cell.

She did not even have the courage to look at her cellmate.

Once at the wooden door that read simply, "Inspector Javert", the guards held her outside a while longer- it seemed that someone was getting a harsh talking to.

"-cause did you have to throw her into the cell?!"

"Sir, she was trying to rescue the thief, surely she could be labeled an accomplice-"

"It is a _child. _Open your eyes man; it was an idealistic, ignorant child you arrested! You could have just as easily pushed her out of the way! She is daughter to Monsieur Barbier, a wealthy merchant here. If he brings his wrath to find out who imprisoned his daughter, I will not hesitate to point him your way."

The door opened and a man, one of the men who had arrested the soul rotting in the cell, bowed and took his leave, but not before giving Elisabet a dark glance.

When they threw her into the office, she had not time to regain her footing and fell on all fours onto the hard, dark floors of Javert's office. She looked around- aside from a fireplace, a mahogany desk, and a large, wooden crucifix, the room greatly resembled the cells. Elisabet raised her chin up high and assembled what she had left of her dignity in order to rise.

"You may go" was all Javert told them. They, like their clone before them, bowed and left, shutting the door behind them. He then looked at her and pointed to the hard, wooden chair across from his desk. "Sit." He said. Elisabet stood without a word or motion to obey, her eyes coldly looking up into his.

"May I remind you that you are in my custody?" he asked, ever so calmly.

"Yes, _sir_." She spat the last word and sat in the chair with deliberately slow movements, gray never shifting from green.

"Pups with big mouths and no claws best keep out of the dark."

"Cowards with long swords best not hide behind their medals and titles."

He regarded her coolly, and this time it was he who kept his unflinching gaze locked on hers as he sat down in his chair. Ignoring her comment, he continued, "I am not angry with you."

Elisabet broke. She stood, slamming her hands on his desk. "You? You aren't angry with me?! I supposed I should just bend down and kiss your God forsaken feet, shouldn't I? The righteous Inspector Javert is not angry with me. Do you know who is? That poor wretch who did nothing but try and _get food for his family_-"

"He is a thief. Justice was served to him-"

"Justice." She laughed bitterly. "What do you know of justice? I am frightened to even think about what you would have done to me if it turned out that I was some poor street urchin like you originally believed. I bet I would have gotten accustomed to this cozy little jail cell you threw me into!"

This time Javert rose in his own defense. He was a man of average height, yet he still stood over a good five inches taller than her, and was a very imposing figure in himself. "I did not throw you in jail."

"Oh, right, I suppose your guards just threw a coup and forced you to put me here."

"I told them to do what they thought was best. I cannot punish them for doing their duty-"

"-_they failed to do their duty when they let that monster beat another human being near to death._"

"-Lilybet-"

"-don't you dare call me that."

"The grocer was just defending his property. The two could hardly be considered on the same level of humanity."

"What the fuck is your problem?! Do you serve all people, or just the ones with the means to fatten your purse?"

"I serve the law."

"You know nothing of the law. You know nothing of true justice. You know nothing of what those poor people have to deal with, day after day, battling for survival with each dawn and praying they will get through the night-"

"-and what do you know of it, Mademoiselle?" though he kept his tone calm and cool throughout the conversation, something that Elisabet could not stand, there was now an edge to Javert's voice. The coolness had turned into a bitter winter cold. The fury that flashed through his eyes for a split second was so terrifying that Elisabet had to sit down. He walked out from around his desk and began pacing around her chair.

When she did not answer, he continued. "That is what I thought. You think yourself so charitable and noble, bringing them bread and clothes and watching their children. Tell me, have you ever spent a single night in that hell hole? A week? Child, your head is filled with idealistic and naïve notions. That is all one could expect from a girl who went from living on a farm to an upper class merchant's home. You know nothing of what it is like. Growing up around people like this- the dirt, the death, the evils. Look at your hands."

He stood right in front of her and took both of her hands by the wrist in his. He turned each over, examining them. "Clean, cut fingernails. Long fingers joint to a smooth palm, finished with small, dainty wrists. Three pink cuts on the knuckles. A callus at the base of your thumb, presumably because you had to fetch water from a well every day as a child. Now look at mine." Javert now held out his own hands, putting them up against Elisabet's for measure. They were much thicker, the fingers and wrists hand much more muscle to them. His fingertips felt rough with callused skin, and there were several long scars across his left palm, with another running thick on the middle finger of his right hand. It looked as if someone had almost succeeded in cutting it off, long ago.

"You do not know anything about these people or the life they lead. I have had a lifetime's worth of experience. The only way to serve justice is following the law to the letter. The street scum is mistrustful and conniving. Nevertheless, the law excludes no one. I don't care if it was the lowliest wretch or the richest man. Man chooses his own way. I have followed the path of justice and light."

"Beating someone is not against the law? Assaulting another person?"

"He was acting in self defense."

"The man took three apples! He had no money!"

"It is not my concern what these gutter men choose to do with their time or how much money they have. If he could not pay for it, he should not have taken the apples."

Elisabet's gaze turned to the look of betrayal she wore when she first discovered that Javert was not on her side. She shook her head at him, as if trying to solve a problem. "I can't believe I trusted you. I can't believe I thought you were just, brave… kind. I can't believe I felt safe with you. You're heartless."

Javert was known for being ruthless, impartial, and above all, for having a heart of stone. Why did her words sting, then? Was she stupid? Why did she not understand? The law is the law; there was nothing he could do. She knew nothing of the life of the poor, she knew none of the darkness or the fear, or the evil it bred. Nevertheless, it just made him sadder and sadder: he did not want to see this girl fall into the hands of satan.

His voice lost its edge when he walked back to his desk. "I could keep you here if I wanted to. You were taken for obstructing officers in the line of duty. That will get you fifteen years easily."

"I don't care."

"I am not going to. I believe that you are not trying to do wrong, you merely do not understand."

"Let me go home."

"Shall I take-"

"I can go by myself."

"Very well. This was a warning. Goodnight, Mademoiselle."

She stalked out of the room without a word. When the door slammed behind her, Javert buried his face in his hands, thinking hard. He knew she was upset, but children of that age are still ignorant of the world. They were still self-righteous, invincible, and hot headed.

But then why did he feel bad? He did not doubt himself, of course, but her face, her words… no matter. He knew that in a day's time she would go back to being the brazen, mildly amusing girl that pursued his friendship. Besides, he had much larger concerns: Monsieur Madeleine, l'Mayor, was looking more and more each day like an escaped convict he knew long ago… he would need to find proof.

Elisabet was thankful that he father was not home; when she walked in the first thing she did was collapse on a chair by the fire, holding her knees to her chest as a monster roaring with fury and sadness threatened to burst out. Damn Javert. Damn his false sense of justice. Damn his calm voice and his cold eyes.

_And damn me for allowing myself to think that he may have been right_, she thought. She stared at her thin, white hands in the firelight. What _did _she know of that life? Spending a few hours each week there was not the same as living there. But what did he know, as well? Elisabet scolded herself for allowing her to feel close to him. If there was one thing that was true, it was that she should never, ever get that close to anybody. No more.

That night she felt more alone than ever as she drifted off to sleep, thinking of the cut on Javert's middle finger and the ragged breath of the man in the cell.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: **__**Forgive me, 'tis not a masterpiece. I just really felt like writing tonight and I stand by my work :3 For those of you worried that Javert would turn into a teddy bear, have no fear: he will be IC, but with a soft side showing (but hey, it's a romance so the stone must be melted at some point.) Let me know what you think! The more reviews I get the more encouraged I will be to keep this going!**_

Days came and went, and neither Elisabet nor Javert spoke a word to each other. In the beginning, he would attempt to speak with her if they were at the church at the same time or he would greet her in passing if he happened to see her, but it was all met with icy silence. She would not forgive him and he, failing to see what he did wrong, eventually gave up and lapsed back into his cycle of duty. If that were not enough, a fire had been lit within him: Javert now almost certainly believed that the mayor was secretly Valjean, and decided to write to Paris, explaining the situation and requesting a warrant for his arrest. Any day now he would hear back, and prove that once a convict, always a convict. Then the girl would see what kind of people these truly are…

He had to admit, a small part of him missed talking to her. She may have been annoying and cheeky, but she was also good, and he had to admit, even funny at times. The girl was one of a kind, and nobody had ever sincerely cared about him, tried to be his friend. Everybody was afraid of the ruthless Inspector Javert, everybody stood out of his way. Eventually he began forcibly shutting people out. He was a uniform, nothing more. The fact that this child tried so hard to see through the uniform alarmed him- he could not allow himself to get close to anybody. He could not let emotions get in the way of his duty like they almost did that day. He was the law, and the law thrived alone.

Still, after a month of peace and solitude, the loneliness he had worked so hard all his life to create had crept back in the form of an idealistic child and her blue, roughly sewn cloth.

Winter had come on quickly, and the constant, bitter cold perfectly reflected how Elisabet felt. She had people she was friendly with, such as Gretchen and the group of children she was so fond of, but even though she knew him a short time, she still found herself missing Javert. He was her friend even if she wasn't his, but not anymore. Now he was the police inspector that she feared and was wary of like everyone else.

Though on a few occasions, they had spotted each other around the town, briefly meeting eyes before she would turn immaturely and hurry on. She cursed herself as her anger at him grew less and less each day. He had done wrong and she knew it. Of course, he was right that she knew little of their lives. But what did he know? It made no matter. He was a cold man. A cold man who saved her life and walked her home when he did not have to…

No. She would never apologize. She was too proud for that.

It was now the dead of winter when her father spotted her in the clothes he thought she had thrown out, kicking a ball of rags around with urchins.

Elisabet took little Mona by the hand and was sharing a small chocolate with her, and then sat around the children as Pierre stood bragging, laughing along with them at his stories began getting implausible.

"Is that not your daughter, Barbier?" a voice said, disbelieving and condescending.

"Shit." She swore, turning around and rapidly walking the other way.

"_Elisabet."_ A voice boomed. She stopped and whispered to the children to leave quickly.

"What about you?" Adrien asked, confused.

"Don't worry, go." She said before turning around and walking to her father like a man en route to his grave. Her father stood, his multiple chins all swelled and red: his head looked like a balloon about to burst.

"This is the girl you want to match with my son?" his friend asked, eyebrows raised in judgment.

"Home. Now" was all he managed to choke out. Not wanting to get into even deeper trouble, she walked with her head bowed and her tail between her legs. S

Elisabet sat in her bedroom when she heard the door slam and the booming of her father. She walked downstairs and stared at her feet as he addressed her.

"I can see you do not even have the decency to take those rags off." He snorted contemptuously at her brown pants, large white shirt, and hat. When she did not answer, he continued, "What do you think you were doing? Have you lost your mind? Associating with those… those rats?"

"They are people, father." She defended.

"Do you know how poorly it reflects on me? Do you not care about the humiliation I went through today because of you?"

"It's not about _you_! _Your _reputation. _Your_ humiliation. These are human beings too, and I daresay they're better people than you and your wealthy colleagues."

"Ungrateful girl." He spat. "Fine, if you insist that these dirty saints are so much better than the people who give you the comfort you live in, then go. Get out of my house." He opened the door and pointed. Without so much as a second thought, Elisabet marched out.

After a few minutes, she realized that is was five in the afternoon in the middle of winter and she had nowhere to go. She had no idea where Gretchen lived, or any of her other classmates.

She felt like a coward when the sudden realization that staying under the bridge overnight frightened her hit her like a punch to the stomach.

Thinking about everything and nothing, she wandered aimlessly until she found herself at the park. Sitting down, she tried to put her life into perspective. She was the upper-class daughter of a merchant. She had been thrown out of her house. She could not stop thinking of the man who she thought was her friend. The man who turned against her, who turned ruthless and cold and had her arrested and left an innocent soul to die just for taking apples for his starving family.

The man who kissed her hand and walked her home because she was afraid of the darkness. The man who let her ride his horse when her knee hurt. The man who promised to keep her safe.

But he broke that promise.

Elisabet's thoughts flew apart wildly; she wanted so much for things to be the way they were, yet that would mean giving up and condoning his actions. That would mean apologizing to him. No, she would not do that.

Afternoon turned quickly to evening as the winter sun set and clouds began to cover the moon.

The church! Elisabet cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner- she could stay in the church for a night. She prayed it was not too late, yet she could not run because all of her limbs were stiff from the cold. When finally she reached the church, she found the doors sealed- whether they were locked our she was simply too weak to open them, she did not know. Out of nowhere, tears burst forth and she sank down against the wall and onto the cold, hard stone, her body wracked with sobs. She could pretend to be an individual. She could pretend to be a philanthropist. She could pretend that she was "different", and that she loved the lower classes.

But in the end she was just a spoiled, well-off girl who knew nothing of the world. She felt angry, sad, and ashamed all at once. She felt guilty that there were thousands who lived like this every night, yet she was frightened because she was outside for a few hours.

Elisabet could not tell when the snow had started falling gently, nor when it got even harder.

She could not tell if she had passed out or simply fallen asleep.

* * *

The sun was just starting to rise over the sleepy town as Javert came galloping on his first patrol. He had dressed extra warm- a woolen coat and leather, fur lined gloves- yet still he felt the chill gnaw at his bones. Everything was covered in about a foot of snow; it was as if a peaceful, white blanket had covered them all. He marveled at God's beauty and decided that he should make a round by the church. He was going by, slowly so as not to make his horse slip, when something made him stop and turn back. He could not tell what this intense feeling was pulling him, yet he was a man who followed his intuition; maybe there would be a convict hiding out in the sacred house of Christ. What he did find, however, was a figure covered almost entirely by snow.

He spotted a ragged brown hat peeking out of the top.

It couldn't be, he thought alarmed. Javert dismounted and headed towards the figure, carefully brushing the snow away.

It was the girl. It was Lilybet. With immediate precision and thought, he brushed all of the snow he could off of her. Whether she was asleep or worse, he could not tell. Her skin was a light blue color, her long, dark eyelashes and cheeks were covered in tear-like ice droplets. He felt her wrist- she had a feint pulse. Javert ran back to his horse and took the dark blue tarp out of his saddle bag and covered her with it.

She needed the hospital, but how? He had nothing to tie her to the horse with, and even if he tried to keep her on it would take too long. Without a second thought, Javert completely wrapped her up in the tarp and carried her like a babe in his arms. He tried not to think about how cold she felt even through his wool or about how stiff her limbs were. He held her as tightly up against his chest as possible to keep her warm.

Nevertheless his duty called, so as soon as he left her at the hospital he promptly went back to his patrol. Every so often, however, the thought of her near frozen filled his head, and he wondered how she was doing- was she conscious? Was her skin back to normal? How had she come to be there? Probably wanted a taste of the poor life, Javert assumed. The girl had no common sense whatsoever. It was a cold reminder of just how much of a child she actually was- stubborn, proud, and completely ignorant of the world. And yet he pitied her for it, and had even on occasion prayed that she did not fall to the darkness.

Hours into the day, at around six in the evening, Javert tied his horse to a post and went into the hospital. Naturally his name was a weighty one in town, so when he asked to go see Elisabet the nurses led him promptly to her. He stood at her bedside and stared at her unconscious figure; she had a certain pallor about her, with the exception of her cheeks- there the blood seemed to have rushed back with a vengeance, and as a result they were quite rosy. He noted that with her blush, dark eyelashes, small mouth, and mane of honey brown locks, she looked almost doll like.

"You have caused me much trouble, Mademoiselle." He said, taking a small step closer. "You have brought this trouble on yourself, yet I get sucked in to help you." Without thought or reason, Javert just started speaking to her. He spoke of his day, of how the Mayor had prevented him from arresting a whore on the docks, of how he sent a letter to Paris stating that the Mayor was really an escaped convict by the name of Jean Valjean. He spoke of the people he mistrusted, of the shabby state of the jails. He admonished her for her naïve and misguided love of street wretches… he did not know what had brought him to this, only that she was the first person to really try and see him as a person, and now it seemed that he needed an outlet for his feelings; it was more talking to himself than anything else. When a lock of hair fell onto her face, Javert wanted to reach over and brush it off- he did not think it was proper or comfortable, however, so he let it sit.

Eventually he noticed that an hour had passed by, and so, taken aback, he got up and on his way back to the jail and his office: but not before bowing goodbye to Elisabet with a concerned look on his face, then slowly getting up and turning his now sheepish eyes side to side when he realized that he had just bowed to someone unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

The first time she woke up, Elisabet discovered herself lying under warm, white sheets. A woman also clad in white jumped up and immediately felt her forehead, asking her a million questions on how she was feeling and what she could remember and where she was.

Elisabet sat up a little bit, feeling warm and dizzy. "Where am I?"

"You are at the hospital Mademoiselle," the nurse answered, "you were brought here yesterday morning by Inspector Javert, he said he found you unconscious under snow. It is almost nightfall now." Any strength she may have had to hold her arms up had left her, and Elisabet lay back on her pillow. She remembered leaving her house, she remembered crouching by the church, and she remembered the cold. It was so cold. But Javert? How had he found her? Why did he take her to the hospital? How? Did he simply drop her and leave? Did he stay to make sure she was alright? Dozens of questions raced through her head and she closed her eyes to make it stop hurting.

"Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle are you alright?" the nurse asked, alarmed.

"Fine, just… tired."

"Well I daresay you are. I will fetch you a glass of medication and then straight back to rest."

The second time she woke up, she found Javert standing next to her bed, pacing and talking as if to himself. Not wanting to interrupt in case it was something important that she might miss, she closed her eyes shut before he could notice her and feigned sleep.

"-caught one of my men at the docks. I suspended him indefinitely from duty, no pay. I only sorely regret that I was not able to find him sooner, a whore on one hand and ale in the other. It's disgusting, what these men do. It's against God's law; more importantly, it is against our laws for police to slack off during their patrol hours. He was scared, I saw it in his eyes. At least he had that much sense. Yet… I sometimes… sometime wish people did not _always_ fear me. They are thankful for me, of course. Inspector Javert, the fierce protector. I keep society safe from harm, yet they still fear me. I know they're all guilty of something, they know I can find and deliver them to justice. I do my job. But then fate had to throw itself into my chaste life. Years I spent, trying to distance myself from all of them. From everybody. Emotions are daggers thrown into you, they blind you and maim you and make it impossible to be just. I spent twenty years crawling out of them, crawling out of the darkness. Then you wandered around a dark street and latched onto me. Mademoiselle, you started throwing the daggers."

His calm, deep voice got a hard, desperate edge on it as Elisabet strained her ears to listen. "You and your annoying, relentless pursuit of friendship almost destroyed everything, all of my morals that I have tried so hard to build when you stood in front of that criminal. Now you have awakened a loneliness I have not felt since I was a child in the gutter. Do you think I do not want someone to tell things too? Do you not think I feel alone, that I do not want a friend? It is dangerous. I am a lone wolf. My one companion is duty. I must live an honest life doing good work, doing justice. This. This is my true happiness. You are an idealistic, stupid child. You believe that everyone is fundamentally good. They are not. Even the most honest man is born in sin, and he who wills to live a pure life will live happily. Those wretches in the gutter… I know them. I was born among them. I crawled out- why can they not? I'll tell you- because they don't want to. Because they are content living their lecherous, thieving lives away into nothing. My life will have meaning. I am a protector of society."

He sounded so sure of himself, yet so afraid… was this the side that nobody else saw? Or was it a new side of Javert that she had been responsible for? Elisabet could not help the guilt that suddenly seized her. She did not know how deep his obsession with order ran, had she really thrown this man into so much disarray?

"Why? Why were you out in the snow?" He started the new thought, suddenly frustrated. "What in heaven made you go outside in those urchin clothes and sit in front of the church? Do you know how lucky you were that I found you? You could've… well, you did not. Why was it me? Why am I the one who had to find you? Why did I worry so much?"

"Ah… Inspector?" another voice entered the room and Elisabet opened one eye just a bit so that she could see what was going on. Javert's back was to her now, and all she could see was his prim Inspector's hat crushed in his large hands as he even then fiddled with it. He stood up straighter and addressed the nurse who stood there.

"I was given this by one of your officers; he said this came for you just now from Paris." He took the letter with urgency and thanked the nurse. Elisabet closed her eyes as he started muttering quickly.

"This is is, this is it, he is done, finally I caught the man, the demon, he will pay for his escape, for his evil, Mayor Madeleine, who but I could have suspected him, his is good, he is very good, but Javert is better-"

"Monsieur Madeleine?" Elisabet opened her eyes and looked at him with surprise. The only word that went through her head was oops. Javert flinched slightly in surprise and looked at her incredulously.

"How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"What did you hear?"

"Nothing."

"You are lying."

"So?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. It was almost as if things were back to the way before Javert threw her in jail. Elisabet was careful to not allow it to go back to the way things were.

"I do not believe that Monsieur Madeleine is a criminal."

"What do you know of it?"

"I know that he is a good, kind man. Sometimes he would stay and say hello to the children I look after. Sometimes he helped me feed their families. I know he is not a criminal"

"In a matter of seconds in will not matter what you think you know."

"Wait. Can you at least tell me what he did?"

Javert thought for a moment before answering, a smug expression playing at his features. "Well, seeing as it will soon become a scandal, I see no harm in it. This man, your saintly Monsieur l'Mayor, has been playing everyone false. That kindness you cherish? It is an act of a criminal to alleviate suspicion. Oh he is smart, very smart, but Inspector Javert can best them all eventually. Good will always conquer evil."

"Get to the p_oint_, Javert." She said impatiently.

He ignored her sass and went on. "Years and years ago, a man named Jean Vajean was put in prison for breaking into and robbing someone's home. He tried to run away and only got years added to his sentence. I was assistant to a prison guard by the time he got his parole- I gave the papers to him myself. Then suddenly… he disappeared. Just like that. Broke his parole and was never seen again. Until now. He could not run forever. I recognized him from the moment I stepped into his factory and I finally found proof enough to write the Paris Prefect. This letter will be the arrest warrant."

Elisabet was silent in her disbelief as she watched Javert open the letter. She watched as his eyes jumped from word to word, his face falling with each passing sentence. He held the paper to the side and looked down for a few moments before looking at her. He did not sound angry. Javert never got angry, that was what made him so cold and dangerous. But his pale green eyes flickered with fury, disappointment, and most of all, shame.

He looked down at his lap and swallowed. "I was wrong."

"Really?" Elisabet asked, perhaps more cheerfully than she had meant to.

"They have caught Valjean, and he is to stand trial in three days' time." Javert had never felt so stupid. He was so sure of himself, so confident in his proof… and now he had broken a rule. He had plotted against his superior. He knew that this could not go unpunished, and so he got up to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To demand punishment for my crimes."

"What? What crimes?"

"For plotting against a superior. I was arranging to have the mayor arrested. If I was to only punish others and not myself, what would I be? Nothing more than a filthy hypocrite. I am an honorable man." With that, he put on his hat and slowly began walking away.

"Javert." Elisabet called. He turned around to face her with the face of a broken man. "Will you be coming back?"

He stared at her as if he was noticing her for the first time, as if he just noticed that they were in a hospital. "Do you wish me to come back?"

Her mouth hung open, uncertain. "What did you do with the man who tried taking the apples?"

"He is serving nine years in Toulon. Three for each apple."

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a cold look. "No thank you." Was all she said. With that, he turned around with the dignity of a general who had just lost a battle and walked out of the room, and Elisabet was grasped with a sudden fear that she would not see him again.

Why? She thought. Why did I make him go away? She answered herself. Because you're too stupid to let go of your grudges.

No. Not stupid. There is a man rotting in prison because of you.

Nevertheless, she pitied the man. He knew no more in his life than his black and white picture of right and wrong. She never would have guessed that he was born to poverty, and it just made her want to hear more of his story. Somehow, it made him slightly more sympathetic. But why, if he knew that life, was he so against all who lived it? Elisabet remembered yelling at him, telling him that he didn't understand what it was like.

She had never felt more like a stupid little girl.

Still, she wondered, as she drifted back into a resigned sleep, would those last few moments have been different if she had said yes?

The third time she woke up it was morning, and it was her father, yelling and howling with joy that she was awake. He said he was worried. He said he wondered where she was and it was a miracle she did not die. He said he understood irrational teenage thoughts about living lives they did not have and the romanticism of living in the forbidden area of town. He said she would be taken home that morning.

Never once did he say sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

School had been a rather uncomfortable trial. The moment Elisabet set foot in the doorway, she was rushed by classmates.

"Oh you poor dear, how are you?"

"We've been worried sick, darling!"

All of them, the girls who made fun of her for her walk, for sitting with the poor, for her clothes were gathered around her like hens, clucking away acting like she was all they thought about.

"They say Inspector Javert took you to the hospital."

" They say he _visited_ you!"

"You're rather close with him, are you not?"

"He's so old!"

"No!" Elisabet shouted over all of them. "He took me to the hospital when I needed it. He did his job and nothing more. Why in the world should he visit me?" she lied rather convincingly that time.

"Girls, I hate to interrupt your _lovely _conversation, but we are in class." Mercifully, the nuns called the class in session and soon the lesson of the day was the main topic of discussion- although Voltaire couldn't hold their attention for long. Little whispers soon began flying about the room, more often than not accompanied by fleeting glances at Elisabet.

Oh good grief, she thought, trying her hardest to focus.

"You are feeling well?" Gretchen asked softly. Her one ally on the battlefield. She nodded and smiled at her, and proceeded to take her notes.

The walk home had been somewhat more peaceful; holding her books to her chest, Elisabet strolled down the sunset-lit street thinking of Javert. He was no longer an Inspector; he no longer held any position at all. Where was he? What was he doing? She had no doubt that he was upset, even crushed. His work was his life… she just hoped that he wouldn't do anything rash.

As if some god in the sky heard her thoughts, Monsieur Madeleine walked down the street, looking slightly harried. Normally she would not bother the man in such a state, but she had to know.

"Monsieur l'Mayor! A word, just a second, please."

He looked at her with stress in his eyes as he answered.

"Yes? Oh, Mademoiselle Barbier, yes, quickly thought, I have business…"

"Is Jav… well, no, what I meant was… the Inspector… I was wondering, Inspector Javert, is he still, well, the Inspector?"

He threw her a confused look when he answered, "Yes, of course, why?"

"Oh he just told me, I mean he seemed upset, I was just curious-"

"-You speak with him? What did he say to you?" he cut sharply.

Elisabet was taken aback by his change in tone. "Nothing, Monsieur! I just know he mistook you for someone else, but I told him he was wrong and I was right, and I was, and I was just wondering if you dismissed him."

Monsieur Madeleine's face relaxed a bit at her explanation.

"No, he is still at his post. Everyone makes mistakes, I saw no reason to dismiss him for doing his duty." He smiled at her. "Now, I apologize, but I have business to attend to at the courthouse and I must get home for my things first. Good day."

Elisabet was confused at his attitude- was there something Javert was right about? She shook off the thought; she had enough to worry about without wondering why the mayor was jumpy. She continued on her way, a happiness that she resented grabbing a part of her. At least Javert was happy- but she could not help but think that being relieved of duty would have been good for him; it was unhealthy, to rid yourself of feeling and dedicate your life to nothing but your job. She knew that she would not be friends with him again- she closed that door when she told him to not return. She could not allow herself to feel regret or sadness for it, either. It was her own fault and her own decision. She did not need him, either. She did not need someone so ruthless and cold in her life, she had quite enough of those.

It seemed that the same God who brought her the Mayor wouldn't listen to her on that note.

"I heard the old man nearly got sacked."

"Who? Javert? Never, the man is an old dog- doesn't think or feel for himself, just obeys."

She stood with her back to the wall, hearing the voices conversing as anger flared through her veins.

"Apparently he tried to get the Mayor jailed or something."

"Why would he do that?"

"Probably to get the job for himself."

"The Mayor found out and tried to fire him, but he cried and begged for his job."

"Man's got nothing else. He's an ass, simple as that. Gave shit to poor Robert for being out on the docks. I bet he was just jealous he couldn't get a lady for himself."

"Shut _up_!" The men laughed as the fire in Elisabet's veins started burning her brain, consuming and controlling her. She turned the corner and saw two young officers not more than ten years older than her. One she recognized as the man who arrested her that day and got yelled at by Javert for it.

Do what you must, he told them. Not arrest her, not take her to the jail.

Javert never wanted her arrested.

"What's this?" the unfamiliar one asked, confused at the intrusion.

"You don't really know him, you have no right saying that. He's not an ass, he's a good man who always does what he thinks is right." She was very much aware of how silly she must have looked, a feeling only reinforced by their laughter.

"Has he got little girls patrolling the streets for him now, too?" a man asked between breaths of laughter.

As it started to die down, the second officer looked at her more closely, his face fading into a scowl.

"I know you," he said, "you're that rich girl dressed as a street rat that he had me arrest!"

"He never told you to arrest me, you did that yourself." She challenged.

"Got fucking yelled at 'cause of you, kid. What'd you do to get out, suck him off?"

The fire made her reach her arm out. She slapped him across the face.

"You're under arrest now, girl." The other one said, stepping towards her.

"Don't you touch me!"

"What's going on here?" Elisabet turned and, for half a heartbeat she thought it was Javert come to help her. No, this voice was much younger, higher.

Another officer came galloping to the scuffle. He looked to be in his early twenties- boyish, tall, a shock of inky black hair, a strong jaw, and bright, intelligent green eyes stared down at Elisabet and the officers in youthful determination with the air of someone who just got put into a place of power.

"Mind your own business, Martin. We're off duty, you can't go running to Javert."

"Well if you're off duty then I don't see why you have any right to arrest the lady.

"The girl hit me!" the familiar officer challenged. They looked slightly older than the one on horseback, but thinner, not as muscular.

"What did you brutes do to her?"

"Barely a year in uniform and he thinks he can give us orders!" one scoffed.

"Get on with your patrol, little boy."

"I can handle myself, thank you!" Elisabet shouted. Out of everything she disliked, being treated like a child was by far the worst.

"Shut it, kid, once we're done with Prince Charming you'll be going straight to the cell. Javert's probably been sacked, so there won't be no one to give your special favors."

"You cowards are ganging up against a girl? Are you as drunk as you look? I can take you both on, you're disgraces to your uniforms-"

"Is this how my officers behave when I do not nanny them?" There was no mistaking the deep command this time. The look of surprise on the faces of the two assaulting officers was plain to see, even as they stood at attention and bowed. Javert sat atop his horse and demanded to know what had happened.

"Inspector, sir, I caught these two hassling this young lady." The one on horseback answered promptly, his eyes shining with attention.

"The girl hit me! Slapped me right across the face! If that weren't enough, she was trying to resist arrest afterwards-"

"Can this all just stop?!" Elisabet shouted. "I was walking home and heard these two saying bad things about you, he insulted me so I hit him, then he tried to arrest me and then this one comes in his shining armor to try and save me and all I want to do is just go back to my damned house without problems or getting into trouble or running into you for once. In. My. Life!" she huffed as she turned on her heel and began walking briskly.

"Hold." Javert commanded. She was not stupid, she knew that above everything else he was on duty, sober, and can and would arrest her at any cause.

"If you are going to act like children and not officers, then I will punish you like children. Being off duty is no excuse to start acting like common brutes; you are men of the law and I expect you to act as such. As for you, Mademoiselle, striking an officer and resisting arrest without cause are serious charges that must be looked into. You four will accompany me back to the jail where all will be dealt with accordingly."

Elisabet was fuming. It was as if Javert ignored what she said completely; she had lived peacefully on a farm all her life, then all of a sudden a little under half a year passes in Montreuil-sur-Mer and she had already been arrested twice.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" the hero asked as she walked beside his horse. "If you are weary, you can ride with me."

"Accused are not permitted to informally 'ride' with officers." Javert cut in as he trotted in front of them.  
Elisabet smiled at him; he was really quite handsome as she saw it. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. You are very kind."

"I am Officer Everett Martin."

"My name is Elisabet Barbier. How long have you been an officer for?"

"A year."

"Is it fun?"

"Quite."

"Do you have any good stories?"

"Oh yes, many." He answered excitedly and they began chatting away. Meanwhile, Javert tried hard to tune them out. Their conversation brought back memories of their first encounter, when Elisabet had tried her hardest to be friendly; the difference was that Martin actually returned the girl's friendliness and openness while Javert… well, he did not need it, nor did he want it. Still, listening to them talk annoyed him somewhat- he attributed it to the long day he'd had and the anger at the two other officers. Luckily, he was able to discover the last component of their trio down by the docks, allowing him to be removed from duty. Javert did not know how or why these two had gotten their uniforms, only that they were useless and ignorant. It sickened him, the way the noble profession of keeping the king's justice had slackened. There were many new recruits like them, having one familial connection or another to help them pass through training. That was why they were all given to Javert; he knew how to deal with those who broke his rules.

Martin had impressed him so far, however. The lad was eager to serve, eager to be a hero. Javert could see the delusions flying about his head of becoming a general, of being a knight in shining armor. It was clear at the moment that he was practicing the latter.

"You two, in my office. Martin, hold the Mademoiselle in a cell-"

"What for?!" she objected defiantly.

Javert answered in his calm, strict voice. "For assaulting an officer."

"Are you kidding?! He was being-"

"-Hold her in a cell until I call for her to hear her story."

"Yes, Monsieur Inspector." As soon as the door shut, Elisabet threw her hands up and walked into a cell. "You seem to know what you're doing." Everett said, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"It's not my first time here." When he shot her a puzzled look, she proceeded to explain. "I was here once before, for trying to protect a homeless man from getting arrested. He stole three damn apples to save his starving family, now he's serving nine years."

"That's the way the law works, I'm afraid."

"Yes. The blind, ignorant law. Where is the justice in it, though? It isn't fair."

"I know," Everett sighed, "but that's why I became an officer. To serve justice." Elisabet gave him an approving smile, which he returned somewhat bashfully. "What happened between you and those idiots?"

"This will probably sound stupid-"

"-No. I want to hear it" he looked at her so sincerely with those eyes. They were green, she thought, just like Javert's. However, his were pale and hard, a stone wall dangerously close to overflowing. They were tired eyes that were always searching, searching for truth, for righteousness… and maybe affection. Everett's eyes were different. They were bright and vibrant, full of youth and idealism and vigor.

"Well, they… those two, I overheard them talking, and they were making fun of Javert and I just couldn't help myself. I got angry and had to say something. Then they started at me as well and my anger just took over and he was just such an ass… I slapped him."

He chuckled, his eyes shining. "How do you know the Inspector?"

Elisabet bit her lip as she looked at her feet. "He saved me once. Twice, actually."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just… I didn't know he was close enough with anybody to do what you did."

"We're not close! He's just… we're… I don't know."

"You and he aren't-"

"-No, no, of course not. I mean he is handsome, it isn't that… no. No. I thought we were friends once, I thought he was kind. I pitied him. But he's just as ruthless and cold as everyone says."

"But you said he saved you."

"That's different. To those others, to the homeless man- he arrested him, just like that. He didn't listen to him, only to that shop owner. He arrested the starving man and God knows what happened to his children. When I tried to help, he just told his officers to do what they must, and left me there, just left me. I don't know what to do. He saved my life twice, but he has no empathy. He follows the law, black and white. Yet I feel I understand him, I want to help him, and then I hate myself for it. I hate myself for feeling close to him and for not being angry, I hate myself for wanting to be his friend."

**_Author's Note: This is pretty much part one of this chapter- it was really long so I decided to cut it. Part two will be released probably afternoon tomorrow. I will totally be a compliment fisher on this. Review if you liked it! ;D_**


	8. Chapter 7- Part II

**_Author's Note: Here's part two! I know reviews do take time out of your day and I wanted to say that I've greatly appreciated all the positive feedback, and it's been helping me write more and more. Thank you, everyone! I hope you like it! I tried to make the reactions as realistic as possible- for Elisabet, I mean. Y'know, teenager arguments. Enjoy! :)_**

The two officers came out of the room, their heads low. Javert's eyes met hers as he gestured for Everett to get her out of the cell and bring her. Once the large wooden door shut,Elisabet started at him heatedly

"Are you kidding me? You bring me here again?"

"You assaulted an officer."

"They were making fun of you!" she blurted out. "They were telling lies, saying that you tried to overthrow the mayor and that you cried. I told them they didn't know you and I told them to shut up and one slighted me and I slapped him. I slapped him for you!"

"I did not ask you to slap anyone."

"What was I supposed to do, Javert?" her eyes shone in anger.

His voice got quieter as he stepped in close to her. "I am the head of this police force. People will always criticize me, especially insubordinates. It is not your place to intercede on my behalf."

"Has anyone?"

"Has anyone what?"

"Interceded on your behalf." Javert stepped back at her question. He was always so confident, but this question threw him off. It was like her worry that night long ago- this child tried to reach out to him as no one ever had, and now here he was admonishing her for standing up for him… no, for assaulting an officer. She had struck a man of the law.

But it was true, no one had ever stood up for him. No one had ever tried to see him as more than a uniform. Despite her anger, despite their vast differences, she still treated him like a friend.

He sighed before talking. "You would have been in far more trouble if these two had not been on the cuff of suspension and if they had not mistreated you before. However, you must learn your place. You cannot stand in front of thieving urchins or yell at others because they say things you do not like. I cannot protect you if you do not follow the law. Am I clear?"

"You never answered my question."

Javert took a pause and took his eyes off of hers. "No. Nobody has." He said matter-of-factly.

Elisabet could not tell at that moment what had happened, but something snapped. The fire returned to her veins and melted the resolve and threw her arms forward.

He expected a tantrum. He expected defiance. Javert did not expect a hug. He stiffened in surprise, unsure of what to do.

"What is going on?" he asked, staring down at her with blank confusion. What was this. What was she doing. Was he supposed to hug back? Or just receive it?

She let go, observing his reaction. His shoulders were stiff and he stood frozen, his sharp eyes for once vague. Elisabet could not help but start laughing.

Javert suddenly became defensive and demanded to know why she was laughing.

"Look at you!" she said. "The ever swift and sharp Inspector Javert, undone by the slightest bit of human affection! You look like a lost puppy!"

His face turned red in her laughter. "May I remind you that you are here under potential arrest? Officer Martin may have been lax with you-"

"Don't you say anything about him, he's sweet."

"That does not matter."

"It wouldn't kill you to be like that."

"I apologize that I do not give every convict a bouquet of flowers."

"I would like a bouquet of flowers." He raised his eyebrows at her before turning away and putting his hand on his forehead. Elisabet tried desperately to cling onto her anger as she felt it slipping away. He was not evil, he was misguided. He was a poor, misguided man. Her voice softened as she sat in the hard, wooden chair. "What would you do if you had a starving family?"

"What?"

"If you had children who were starving. You had no money. Just think about what you would do."

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm not telling you to stop following the law. I'm pretty sure it's all you know, and I pity you for it. But next time you go to arrest someone for stealing out of need, just think about what would happen to you in their place. If someone who was depending on you, who meant more to you than anything, was in danger, you would do anything for them. Nobody should have to pay for that."

"Do not presume to tell me how to do my duty, child. I do not doubt that you believe your heart is in the right place, but you cannot understand this life. It is never necessary to break the law, and I can never allow them to. If I allowed someone to get away with stealing apples, what is next? Clothing? Money? Laws keep society safe."

Elisabet shoot her head at him. "What about compassion?"

"Compassion and sympathy are demons, designed to get in the way of unbiased justice."

"Your justice is blind justice!"

"I do honest work-"

"-Is that the lie you tell yourself every day?"

"How dare you-"

"-How dare I what, Javert? Stand up for what is right?"

There was a pause as neither looked at the other. Javert turned his back to her. "I wish I could make you understand."

Elisabet sat for a long while, thinking hard. What could she do? He was just as set in his ways as she was, he was blind to anything else. She wanted to make him see. She wanted to bring out his humanity. "Why did you take me to the hospital? Why did you visit me?"

He looked down at her, surprised at the change of topic and to see her sitting so complacently. "I could not leave you to die."

"You visited me. You _talked _to me."

"I needed to be sure you were alright."

"Why?"

"It is not your place to question my actions."

She gave him a small, knowing smile. "Just know… the things you said to me while I was unconscious, you can tell me when I'm awake. Everyone needs someone to talk to."

"You clearly stated that I was not to visit you." Elisabet was thrown off by the question. Did he really still hold that in his mind? She felt worse than ever.

She looked at him imploringly. Her immature anger melted away as she tried to explain how she felt. "I never meant… I… I don't agree with you. I don't agree with what you think. But you saved me, twice. You made me feel safe with you. I could talk to you. I know you didn't throw me in jail. I was angry you left me alone. I was angry you didn't help the man. I'm sorry I said you didn't understand. I heard you talking about your past; I know you were born with all of them. I know that you lived that life. I think you fear it. You're afraid of letting it haunt you, so you keep to the only thing you have in life, the only thing that is there and that you can rely on to never change. The law. You cling to it like a piece of wood on the open ocean. It consumes you now and you don't trust anyone else. You don't know anything else. I just want you to know that I'm here too. I'm still angry but I can't turn my back on you. I want you to know that you can trust me."

Her blue gray eyes stared into his, longing for him to see her sincerity. Only now had she slowly started realizing what she said was true. There was a man in prison because of her. Javert was a ruthless patrolman. But he was also her savior and, despite it all, friend. She could not turn her back on him. That was why the flames consumed her, why she confronted the two officers. She would be there for him and show him that he could trust people aside from himself. He looked back at her, his face unreadable. His mouth slightly sat open as Javert looked at her as though she would turn back at any moment and tell her it was all a trick, like she would walk out at any moment and things would be the same as they had been for weeks.

"You may go."

"Am I not arrested?"

"Go." Was all he said, his lips barely moving. Outside, Everett straightened at the sight of the Inspector.

"It is already dark." Elisabet muttered to herself, staring outside.

As if woken from a trance, Javert asked her, "Do you require an escort?"

"No need, Inspector." Everett stood at Elisabet's side eagerly. "I can escort the Mademoiselle, I am sure you have work to attend to."

Elisabet threw a glance at Javert. He looked tired and immersed in thought- she did not want to make him go all the way to her house and back in his state, she would worry far too much. She thought of the man in Toulon. She looked back at Everett's eager face and put her hand in his.

He kissed her hand. "Show me the way, Mademoiselle, I will get you home safe." He turned and bowed to Javert.

She let go and walked back over to Javert. "I spoke to the Mayor today. I'm glad he did not let you resign. You know where I live if you need anything." She did not know what happened then, only that she felt the hand of fate twisting her life, not allowing her an option to sever all ties with Javert. He understood her and they shared a queer sort of kinship. They were night and day, and yet exactly the same. She was angry at him, yet did not want to leave him alone to his darkness. She walked out of the door with Everett, fully re-resigned to learning Javert's first name.


	9. Chapter 8

Javert stood staring down the stone hallway, mouth still slightly open. The girl's words had sapped him of strength, of any comprehension. All of his doubts, all of his fears were pushed to the front of his mind. It was as if she reached into the very depths of his being and ripped out his secrets and uprooted the ground he stood on. The law was his life; it was the very reason of his being, his anchor in a world teeming with sin. It was all he had. He could not let himself get close to her, he couldn't. If he tore his focus away, who knows what could happen? Javert was the constant vigilante- what made him so pure was that he worked for it. He worked to free himself of dirt and sin, and by becoming the law he had become goodness in itself. Getting close to this girl… to Lilybet… it would crack the fortress. He did not allow himself to miss her; he did not allow himself to insist on escorting her home. In fact, he hoped that Martin would strike her fancy enough so that she would no longer become a distraction in his life.

And yet he wanted to order Martin away before he could take her out the door. He did not want to be left in his loneliness.

No. These distractions would not be tolerated. This little girl was nothing on the path to ultimate salvation- he would enjoy ultimate happiness with the Lord one day. Until then, honest work and just reward were the way of his life. She made it seem like she really cared for him- nearing forty, alone, and grim- Javert was not stupid, he knew who and what he was. Her childish need for a friend meant little and less, she did not really want to hear his problems. She did not want to see the weakness of a man at the tail end of his prime. She was young, idealistic- she could find more happiness in Everett Martin, tenfold that she would find in Javert. He represented the cold, harsh reality of the world, Martin was a potential happy ever after. Javert was the lone wolf- destined to live and die with no companion, guarding society from evil until he withered away in old age or fell in the line of duty.

But the understanding that had passed between them, more than once. Javert did not know what it was- he would never openly admit it, but it frightened him. He did not understand it and he did not know what it was, but when his green eyes met her gray, something went off.

Enough thinking. Enough emotions and doubt. Javert stood up and collected himself, smoothing his crisp uniform. You are the law, he told himself, evil fears you, it trembles at your name. Already he felt less shaken up. The clock struck ten without warning. Javert saw the rain lightly hit the window pane and gathered his coat and blue tarp and proceeded for home.

* * *

Several days had passed since Everett walked Elisabet home. She found that she greatly enjoyed his company- he was brave, kind… maybe not very intelligent, but he was a good man. They shared many of the same views on life and justice, yet she found that she could not feel entirely at ease. With Javert, she certainly had to watch herself at times, but she felt that she could tell him anything- though only knowing him a little less than two months, the feeling she got around him, the kinship and safety, it went against all of her instincts. She knew he was ruthless and single minded, but she also knew that deep inside he was frightened and alone, as was she. She could tell him her whole life, her doubts and fears and past and not think less of it.

But it was clear that he was not interested in being her friend. They were too different in views; he saw her as only the immature child who knew nothing. He left a man rotting in prison for something she was more than willing to condone. Not because he was evil, but because he was drowning in his black and white view of life.

"I wish I could make you understand." It stuck in her mind. Did he care about her after all? Did he want to 'help' her into his light? Elisabet had to think hard over something she never thought she could think about: did she want Javert's help and care, or did she want to follow her conscience?

No. There was only one way to go and she knew it. Her friends, those people… they needed her. Javert needed someone to help him, that was for sure. Maybe she wasn't meant to be his friend. Maybe the kinship and understanding was in her head. Maybe Everett was right for her after all.

The first thing she did when she got home was resign herself to learning the streets. Backwards, forwards, eyes closed- she would not be weak anymore. She would learn to protect herself, to take care of herself. For the next three days, she spent most of her spare time walking around every street and every corner. She had run into Everett quite a few times, and each day he had a new compliment lined up for her.

"Mademoiselle, your dress is lovely."

"You are looking radiant today, Mademoiselle Lily." She told him that she sometimes went by Lilybet, but he could never really remember the last three letters. It sounded oddly strange on his tongue, but she shook it off as over thinking. He had asked to see her this Sunday, maybe to walk through the market or sit in the park. Elisabet promised her answer on the morrow- she was not sure how she felt about the young officer. She thought he was handsome, of course, and charming… but there was something missing.

All these thoughts and more ran circles through her head as Elisabet picked her warmest dress to go outside that night- she would prove to herself once and for all that she could take care of herself. Her father was gone again, so that saved her from coming up with a story for him. Her last pair of pants gone when she went to the hospital, Elisabet put on a lilac dress with a woolen coat and mapped out a route for herself- she would start by walking through the park, rounding the hospital, passing the church, and finally getting home.

The cobblestone streets seemed much more familiar after all of her practice; the darkness all around her still made the goose bumps rise all along her skin, but she steeled herself against the shadows- giving up was easy, but dealing with herself afterwards was more than difficult.

Be focused, be brave, she thought. Be like Javert.

Soon, she reached the park, where a few people still milled… not many, but more than usual for eight in the evening. Whispers flew by, and she caught snippets of them from time to time.

"-Madeleine, yes, faking all this time-"

"-Valjean is the real name-"

"-escaped from prison years ago-"

"-Inspector Javert has been pursuing him, he knew-"

"-going after him this very moment-"

"-thief-"

"-convict-"

"-Valjean-"

"-Javert…"

Elisabet stopped in her tracks, her heart beating faster. Was Javert right? Was he really right? Was the good mayor an escaped convict? And she scoffed at him, called him paranoid…

No matter. She would find the story tomorrow. Elisabet bowed her head against the gossip and walked on. She had gotten past the hospital and was silently rejoicing on her way to the church. Her fear shrank with every passing step. There were no people to be found anywhere, no figures to threaten her. Every lantern post seemed like another brilliant star lighting her way. She would not need to cower at the sun as it traveled west, she would not need Javert or Everett to help her home like a child.

Then the shadows came back. One shadow, to be exact. It was hunched over, limping like a cumbersome mass. Elisabet thought it was another drunkard out in the streets and immediately started for the other direction.

She noticed droplets of blood on the stone and realized that it was some wretched creature in pain, one she could not leave alone no matter who it was. She ran forward, getting closer, softly asking "Are you alright? Let me help you." The figure hunched further, almost recoiling from her touch.

"Please." She said.

"I am fine." The deep voice grunted back. The deep, solemn voice filled with pain.

"Javert?" she asked, stunned. She turned around and squinted through the dark and saw the pale face, the closely cropped beard, and the pale green eyes. A dark liquid ran down from a gash on his forehead. One of his shoulders looked bloody as well, but other than that he just seemed to be in pain, maybe a broken bone somewhere.

"Come, let me help you."

"No." he recoiled again. "I must… I must go get… officers… Valjean in the river…"

"Javert please," Elisabet almost shouted, fully facing him. "I can't leave you like this, let me help you. You're hurt, I can overpower you now so I'm going to take you somewhere whether you want me to or not." He began to protest even as he collapsed into her. Elisabet thought quickly as her body shook with his weight on her. Her house was too far away, and she knew he would not want all to know that the unstoppable Javert was brought to the hospital by a sixteen year old girl…

The church, she decided. She knew exactly where to bring him. The fire burned her veins, evaporating her blood and everything within and replacing it with a strength she never knew she had. Javert barely held onto consciousness, barely shifted his weight from foot to foot. The church was in sight and Elisabet used the wall for balance as she approached the garden. She closed her eyes as she felt her strength failing, feeling the weight of Javert's body on her shoulders and hearing his labored breathing. Finally she found the door and gently put him down as she bent and got the key from under a nearby flowerpot, opening the door to a small, tan, stone-walled room with nothing but four lanterns, and a pedestal with a crucifix on it. It was this room into which she dragged Javert, took off her coat, and laid it on the ground for him. She found a small match behind the cross and thanked the Lord for giving her the strength to bring him all the way there. The room immediately felt much warmer as Elisabet lit the lanterns one by one, bathing the room in yellow.

One day, the day after she got back from the jail and ended her friendship with Javert, she found that sitting through the day learning Latin was more than she could handle. She asked the nuns if she could be excused to use the bathroom and abandoned thought and let her feet drag her to the garden of the church. There she sat, and there she cried until a kindly old man came to her by the name of Fauchelevent. She was weak, she was vulnerable, and she was unable to hold back her feelings and told the man the whole story. In exchange, he spend an hour talking, just talking about the garden and all the different plants. They were good plants, they were healing plants. He showed her the key to the special room, and told her it was a good place to feel safe. That was what she needed now- to feel safe.

Elisabet ripped a piece of wool off of her hem and dabbed at the blood on Javert's forehead. She reached with a trembling hand to push his hair back. His eyes were shut and his breathing was labored- there was no time to waste. She upended a flower pot and filled it with water from the fountain, and then immediately returned, struggling to remember which plants did what. Elisabet gathered a few leaves she remembered were good and returned to the room, shutting the door. She was pleased to feel the heat radiating off of the lanterns on all sides, heating the stone. She sat next to Javert and began unbuttoning his uniform. Unable to remove his undershirt, she ended up having to tear it open to see the extent of his wounds; it was clear that Javert got into a fight, but with who she could only guess. He had a strong, broad chest and was deceivingly muscular- whoever injured him must have been quite the specimen of fitness. Just as she suspected, he had a gash on his left shoulder that was also bleeding- thankfully, not as heavily as she thought.

Elisabet wet the larger leaves she gathered, laying them on both cuts to stop the bleeding and hopefully sooth the pain. Javert gasped when she laid the leaves down, but made no other motions. He briefly opened his eyes to meet hers, and she could not tell if they were grateful, shocked, ashamed, or pained… only that they were not the cold, harsh eyes of the Inspector. They fluttered shut after a mfew moments, and Elisabet used the cloth to wipe down his forehead and keep it cool. Luckily, he did not seem to be bruised far more than that- he had a large bruise on his side, but no broken bones. She reached for the other leaves she found and put them on the bruise- after wetting it, it felt cooling to the touch so Elisabet assumed she was doing right. She wrapped his jacket around him as a blanket and sat against the wall, watching him. Javert's chest rose and fell more steadily now, his brow furrowed: not even in sleep was he relaxed. He looked so troubled, so alone, that she could not help herself. She moved herself to sit next to him, placing her hand on his cheek. She bent down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, hoping to soothe him. It worked, but only slightly- the stress on his eyes relieved just a little bit. She put her hand in his sandy brown hair, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes, only just realizing how tired she truly was.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note:**__** fair warning, this is about 4,600 words. I had no way to break it up without breaking the continuity. It was a hard chapter to write, especially to show Javert having a soft side. I reaaaaally hope I did him justice, though! Let me know if you like it, thanks for reading! :)**_

Javert opened his eyes in a warm, stone room. He took a moment to assess what was going on- his uniform was off. He was on the ground. There was something touching his head.

Valjean.

Valjean was in the hospital. They had fought. Valjean jumped into the river. Had he resurfaced? Javert could not remember. He remembered he was on his way to the jail to make a full report of what had happened, but what was this? He began to rise when a shooting pain traveled from his torso to head and he fell back with a grunt. He heard a soft gasp and the object was removed from his head. Javert turned his head as much as he could and saw her. Lilybet. Her hand had been sitting on his head and she had been asleep. She turned red as she looked down at him.

"I assume you're wondering what you're doing here" she admitted, her face noticeably red. When Javert had been unconscious, she knew what to do and even prided herself on her actions. She now realized that she should have thought of something for when he awoke. Being found with her hand sitting on his head was not something that she would have planned out. He stared at her upside down, his neck craned backwards. Still unable to gather his thoughts, he nodded at her.

"Well, see," Elisabet thought about how to go about telling the story, "I was walking around, you know, to prove that I could walk around alone at night. I was passing from the hospital to the church when I saw you, you were limping and bleeding and you fainted, so I ended up half carrying you to the church. This is a room I found out about by the garden. Nobody will find us here. I cleaned up your wounds and then fell asleep and then you woke up-"

"-I can gather what happened from there." He commented. At least he was getting his strength back. "The officers, the arrest, what happened to-"

"I know about the mayor." She sat down next to him so as not to make him crane his neck. "I know you were right."

"How?"

"Gossip around the town. I heard you went to arrest him and your officers were to follow up. They probably have-"

"-I must go. I must go to the jail, to the hospital, to see, to find out, to report-" he tried rising again. This time when the pain pushed him back, Elisabet threw her arms under him to keep him from falling.

"You can't go anywhere, you're too weak. At least give it a few hours of rest." She got up and opened the door, peering into the darkness. "It's the dead of night, there's no possible way for you to do anything anyway. Just stay here until the sun comes up, please."

"Where will you go?"

She stared at him incredulously. "I'm staying with you, of course." The matter-of-fact way she stared at him gave some small part of Javert a sort of comfort.

He winced as he tried to adjust himself, before finally sighing, "Fine." Elisabet smiled and went for fresh water and leaves. When she came back and shuffled about her business, Javert stared at her intently, curiously. Why was she going through this trouble? What would she gain from it? She could have easily left him in the hospital- of course, Javert did not want to be seen being dragged into a hospital by a girl when he was supposed to be arresting a convict, nor did he care for the attention he would garner there. He was a man who preferred to deal with things in secrecy, but how could she know that? Why did she carry him to this little room and take care of him? How many hours had passed? He shut his eyes tight as his head started spinning; he raised a hand to clutch his forehead and rub his eyes and a groan escaped his lips as his muscles creaked stiffly.

Elisabet heard the groan and immediately came to Javert's side. She took his hand in both of her own and moved it down to his side as she shushed him softly. He opened his eyes to look at the three hands. His large, hard hand that had seen so much was being cradled by the soft, inexperienced hands of this girl. The gentle, thin hands with three light scratches had saved him. They carried him and soothed his wounds, they rested in his hair as he slept… so young and ignorant of so much, but in a way she understood. She understood him. They were wrapped in a child's innocence, yet her warm, gentle hands came through where his had failed.

"Are you alright?" her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He had been clutching her hand rather hard, he saw. He immediately released it, looking up at her with his normal, impassive face.

"I am fine. I was just… I was tired, I forgot what I was thinking." She gently placed his hand on the ground and put her own on his forehead.

"You don't have a fever, that's good. It's just the cut on your shoulder and head and some bruises on your side, other than that there isn't really anything major. What happened? What made this happen?"

"I was doing my duty. This time I was bested by the convict with his monstrous strength but mark me, next time he will not escape Javert-"

"-What _happened_?"

"I do not see why you have to know."

"We have at least three hours, Javert. We have to talk about something; otherwise it'll be an awfully boring recovery for you. I told you, you can trust me. If I get bored with you I can just leave."

Javert resigned himself with a 'hmph' and began telling her of what Valjean had confessed at the trial, of the prostitute at the docks and how Valjean sat at her deathbed, of how the two of them fought- Javert with his rapier and Valjean with a large plank of wood, of how he had outmatched him in strength and jumped into the river. As he told the story, Elisabet busied herself with soaking various leaves and putting them on Javert's cuts and bruises. They seemed to cool the pain, and he winced when she went to clean off the cut on his head.

"What did you say he did again?"

"He broke his parole."

"Before that."

"He broke into a home."

"Why?"

"To steal."

"Steal what?"

"Bread."

"Was he poor?"

"I assume so, they all end up thieves and criminals-"

"-Are you serious?!" she pressed down hard on his cut as she was cleaning it and Javert let a gasp escape his lips. "Sorry." She continued on. "You made me think he was a bad man, I knew he wasn't, I knew he could never be a real criminal!"

"He spent nineteen years in Toulon for it- he is a convict and a runaway."

"He was probably starving!"

"That is none of my concern. He broke a window pane and stole from an innocent citizen. Why did he have to break into a home? If he was only concerned with stealing bread, then he would have gone to a shop. Who knows what else he could have done before the authorities took him? If he is as good of a man as you believe, then why did he hide behind a guise?"

"Because of men like you." She answered, walking into a corner of the room. Elisabet stood, facing the cross in the little alcove. Why did she think he could show sensitivity? Of course Madeleine was not a bad man. She saw it in his eyes. They were warm, brown eyes that had seemed to have seen so much, yet still brimmed with hope. He hid in secret because he was afraid being found. He stole bread because he was poor and starving. She went with the simple solution and decided that she thought Javert was stupid.

A soft groan made her turn around and see him wincing as he tried to adjust the green on his shoulder. "Don't touch that." She promptly slapped his hand away and fixed the bandage. "I know what I'm doing, if you touch it you'll make it wrong."

"If he is a good man, then why did he break his parole?"

Elisabet suddenly became very interested in the leaf, and she did not reply. Javert saw the frustrated look on her face that somehow, he did not think had to do solely with his touching the leaf. She held her tounge, she had no logical response for him, yet she was angry at him for hunting Valjean. This was not her business, this was not her concern. The fact that she would not understand saddened Javert- she was such a strange girl, she had goodness within her, care and comfort, but she lacked judgment of character. Those who broke the law once, stole a loaf of bread, would not be opposed to breaking the law again. What law would they break next? Would they murder? Rape? Revolt? No, Javert would never let that happen. He stomped the evil not when it was in bloom, but when the very seed was planted. Harsh punishment for the first broken rule ensured that there would be fear of breaking the second. He glanced at her again. She tried to oppose him at every turn, no doubt she would have stood in the way of his arresting Valjean if she could have. She blamed him for her being thrown in jail twice.

Yet here she was, taking care of him as he lay injured, spending the night in a barren, stone room to make sure he was alright.

"I will not change just because of this."

She looked up, confused. "Because of what?"

"This. You, here. Do not think that just because you are assisting me that I will hesitate to arrest any wretch on the street. I do not let anyone get away with defying the law. Not even you."

"I know that."

Javert hesitated. This was not what he was expecting. "Then… then why-"

"-Because you needed me. You think I only care about the poor, that I want to protect anyone breaking your precious laws. Well, I don't. I care about you, too. I care about anyone I think is worth caring about. I couldn't just leave you."

"I did not need help."

"Because collapsing on the street is a much better option."

"I would have taken care of myself."

"Fine, I'll just be leaving then."

"Wait." Javert may have been proud, but he knew that now that he was here, her help was, to some degree, necessary. Lilybet had gone through a great deal to be here with him, and he knew it. He looked down at his injuries and tried to think of something to say. "Thank you." Was all that came out.

Out of nowhere, her blue gray eyes shined in surprise and happiness. She gave him a small smile. "Don't, I owed you. You saved me twice."

The two little words elated Elisabet. It was humanity, it was gratitude. She knew Javert was prideful; she expected him to keep protesting her help, but his thanks acted as a gateway of sorts. It was an acknowledgement of her work, of her caring. He wanted her to care. Javert looked thoughtful for a moment, and then his face filled with concern.

"Will your father not be angry with your being here?"

"He's away again."

"Ah." Javert looked down again and stayed silent. Elisabet knew that look in his eyes. He felt bad for her. So her father had left her alone again, what right did he have to look down at her for that? She didn't need his sympathy.

"I don't want your pity." She said, suddenly angry. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me just because my father leaves me a lot. He doesn't care about me, why should I care about him going away? You don't get it; please do not try to sympathize."

"My father was a thief and a murderer." Javert did not meet her eyes when he said this, but Elisabet saw the shame in his face. She saw the years of disgrace and anger he had hid all his life. She sank low again and sat down next to him. He looked at her, a thin mask of indifference hiding his vulnerability. "If you were so against my pity, Mademoiselle, what makes you think I want yours?"

"Right." She looked away, unable to think of a response. Had he ever told that to anybody? Somehow she did not think so. The fact that he shared it with her meant something to her. Again, she felt stupid. He really did have a hard life, harder than she, thankfully, could know. He understood. And he trusted her. She had no idea why he did. She had no idea why she reached over and put her hand on his. Javert did not make any motion in response, nor did he pull away. And so they sat that way for a long while, a silent exchange of comfort and kinship passing between them.

"I had a mother and brother once." Elisabet said, suddenly. She did not know what made her start, but her memories were weaving themselves together in her brain, painful memories that had been kept in hiding for years. "When I was little I lived with my father and mother and brother in a small village. I was six and he was four, we went to the beach near our village. It was the first time our parents let us swim on our own. Remi thought it would be a good idea to swim away and make me catch him, and we ended up where we couldn't stand. It looked very far from the shore. We started splashing and then he went underwater… he tried to get back up and he was splashing around so much, I thought he was playing so I laughed and kept splashing him. _I kept splashing him_. My father noticed something was wrong and he ran into the water and got him out, he pushed me out of the way and started yelling at me. He put Remi on the sand and I saw that he wasn't moving. He looked like he was asleep. My mother asked me why I didn't try to help him. She asked why I didn't get them sooner. Father started beating on Remi's chest but he still wasn't breathing. He didn't breath anymore after that. Mother died a year after. They said it was sickness but I know it was me. Because I killed Remi I killed a part of her, too. She couldn't live anymore because of her. "

Elisabet thought she was going to vomit. She was no longer with Javert in the stone room. She was there, watching, helpless as her father tried to expunge the water out of her brother's lifeless body. The vomit turned out to be choked sobs and tears. "I let him die, I let him die," she kept repeating it to herself, "I splashed him, I got more water into him, I _made _him die. I made my mother die. It was all my fault."

Javert watched her cry, unsure of what to do. He listened to her whole story, watching her relive the accident in her memories. Tears poured down her face as she exposed her innermost guilt. Why was she telling him this? His life was not without sin as well, he could understand… but why him? Why now? She began to calm down; he still stared, helplessly. She rubbed her eyes and looked at him as though she just noticed him lying there.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No. I am… I am sorry for… your loss. It is not my place but… I do not believe it is your fault."

Suddenly, she grew embarrassed as she realized that she just spilled her heart to Javert. "No, I shouldn't have told you, it was a mistake."

"I understand how you feel." Javert closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his own memories stirred. 'You can trust me', she had said. She had just revealed her soul to him. For once in his life, Javert pushed his instincts of secrecy aside. "When… when I was a boy, I lived in the jails. My mother was a gypsy and my father was a convict. I grew up fearing my father and his fellow prisoners, every step they took I took one backwards. One night my mother and I found a stale loaf of leftover bread on the ground, and she went to go get it. A man appeared out of the shadows. He was very thin, almost skeletal. My mother had picked up the bread already and he told her to hand it over. She said no and that it was for her son. He pulled out a knife and she fell on the ground. I did not understand what had happened so I ran to retrieve the food. He pulled the knife on me and almost took my finger off with the bread. I thought that the blood on my mother was the blood coming from my finger. I could not protect her. I wasn't even strong enough to carry her away. I don't know what ever happened to her body."

Whereas Elisabet's memory forced her to tears in her eyes, Javert's face went blank and distant. His eyes looked but saw nothing of the present, only the blood on his hand and his mother's body. She took the hand that hers rested on and turned it over. She stared at the large scar on the base of his middle finger, as if someone had almost succeeded in cutting it off years ago. Suddenly, he made sense to her. Thieves and murderers were one and the same. All prisoners bent on harming others. Valjean had stolen bread, and this had stirred Javert's childhood traumas. It made his scar come alive and the blood on his hands return. Valjean was one and the same as the convict who killed his mother to him. He could not protect her, so now he was hellbent on protecting everyone else around him. He saw what resulted from people not following the law, and so he dedicated his life to living by it. He saw the law as his salvation. He took his hand away from her and cradled it in his other.

"Why did you tell me that?" she asked softly.

"I don't know." Javert looked up at her with a newfound understanding in his eyes.

Elisabet seemed to read his mind. "I'll never tell anyone."

"Nor will I yours."

"I don't care. Sometimes I want everyone to know. Sometimes I want to climb on a rooftop and shout that I murdered my brother-"

"-You did not."

"I _did_."

"No. You blame yourself and I understand, but you did not kill him. Believe me. Tragic accidents are no one's fault, and it is especially not your fault if your mother died of a sickness. If you live forever blaming yourself, you can never truly live in happiness."

"Do you? Do you live in happiness? Do you not feel any guilt?"

"Of course I feel guilt. I feel guilt every day of my life that I was not able to stop him then. But I have learned to live my life in goodness, I have given my soul to the Lord. I had two choices: live to harm society like my father, or protect it. By punishing all that break the law I keep them away from innocent people. Their lives are safer."

"And you don't want to let anybody get close to you because it will become harder to protect them."

Javert did not answer. He merely closed his eyes and lay back. He was not sure why he had told her that, only that he felt as if a weight had been taken off of him. Knowing that there was someone, anyone, who understood how he felt, was a relief. Of course, he knew this would not be happening if he was not in his current state, nor would he let it happen again. However, he could not seem to think like himself. He could not seem to think like Inspector Javert, the ruthless police man. He felt like the scared little boy of thirty years ago. He could not allow himself to get close to Lilybet, what if a time came when he was unable to protect her from something? What if she fell to danger? Javert lived enough with his mother's death blackening his soul, he could not tell what adding her death onto it would do to him. Worse, what if a time came when he would have to choose between helping her and doing his duty? The prospect terrified him because, for the first time in his life, he would come to an impasse. He could not go on living knowing that he failed to obey the law, nor could he live with letting someone he cared about come to harm.

"Are you alright?" her worried voice woke him out of his trance. He stared up into her red, wet eyes. They were tired, sad, concerned… and above all, he could see care. He could see that she genuinely cared about him and that she wanted to tell him about her life. She trusted him.

As he stared into those young eyes, he prayed to God with all his might that he would never have to come to that choice. And for the second time ever, Elisabet hugged him. It was an awkward hug, as he could not get up or move much. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Javert looked down at the brown locks and awkwardly placed one hand on her back. It was not an act of affection, but rather an act of helplessness and hope, that somehow he could comfort her and make her guilt go away, and that she in return could help him trust her and be at peace with himself. It was a hug of solace and friendship. He did not know how much of her wishes he could grant, or if he could do any of them for her at all. All he knew was that like it or not, he now had a friend. His loneliness was compromised, his fortress invaded.

"You know I cannot change." He told her. He would never be like her; he knew that once a law breaker always a law breaker and he would never rest until he found them all. Until he found Valjean. He knew too much of the world to feign ignorance and idealism, he had too much of a responsibility to the well being of society.

She released him, wiping her eyes for excess tears. "I just want you to be happy." She gave him a small smile through her pain and sadness. The phrase meant more than Javert could or was willing to say.

"Thank you for telling me about your life. I know it must have been hard." She said.

"I do not know what came over me."

"Friendship!" she exclaimed, her voice still thick.

"I told you-"

"I saved you, so you owe it to me to be my friend."

"I saved you twice. If I choose it, you could owe it to me to leave me alone."

"But I wouldn't."

"I assumed that."

The glitter in her eye slowly returned. Elisabet did not feel miserable like she thought she would- on the contrary, she felt a sense of release. That had been bottled up for so long, and it felt right to tell it to Javert. He was her confidante, and he returned the sentiment and opened up to her as well. He did care about her. They shared a moment that could never be reproduced. They understood each other, and forgave the other their sins, even if they did not forgive themselves. They really knew each other.

"Did Martin escort you home properly?" Javert kicked himself for asking the question. All mental filters seemed to have fallen away after their secretive moment, and as soon as the question popped into Javert's mind he asked it.

"Oh yes, I quite enjoy his company. He's really nice, he asked me to see him on Sunday, but I have no idea what to do."

Elisabet felt Javert stiffen. "Well it is not my place to tell you what to do with your personal life."

"Just give me an opinion!"

"I have none."

"You never do." She sighed. "We need to work on getting you a personality."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything. I think I'll go. He's handsome, he's nice… why not? I have nothing to lose."

"I am not properly prepared to handle these feminine qualms."

"You're a qualm yourself."

"Rudeness is unnecessary."

"Don't be so sensitive."

They continued squabbling for a bit, and then went on to speak of other things, such as Javert's work and the policemen under him, Elisabet's classes, her plans to walk self-sufficiently, what she wanted to do and see in life… There were no lulls in their conversation until Elisabet got up to check how it was outside. Time had flown by; already the first light of the sun began appearing in the sky.

"Can you get up?" Elisabet asked, kneeling by Javert. He struggled at first, but slowly, stiffly, he rose. Though his muscles were sore, his cuts no longer bled and he could move somewhat freely. He stood, looking down at her, his body bruised but not broken.

"You… I just… I wanted to say… thank you." He said finally, gathering his uniform.

"It's never a problem." She answered, smiling up at him. "Where will you go now?"

"I must go home first to change… then to my office."

"Do you need help?"

"No, it is but a short walk."

"Alright then, I'll walk with you until I have to turn towards my house, at least. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Telling me what you told me. For trusting me and for listening."

Javert had no response, and instead held the door open so that she might pass. He stepped outside and felt reality slap him in the face with the cold wind. He was the Inspector of the police. He had a duty to do. He had to find out if Valjean was alive or dead. Just because he told her about his past does not mean he was weaker. Nobody else would ever have to know. As far as they were concerned, if she could keep everything quiet like she said then nothing would be compromised. They walked side by side in silence for a few minutes, quietly allowing the closeness to form between them.

When they finally got to the crossroads where they had to part, Elisabet and Javert turned to face each other.

"Good day, Inspector." She curtseyed to him with an air of politeness that took him by surprise. When the mocking grin took over her features, however, Javert could not help but give a small smile himself. Lilybet may have helped him and shared deep feelings with him through the night, but she was still, through thick and thin, a cheeky little nuisance.

"Good day, Mademoiselle." He returned, bowing and turning on his way, his head immediately filling with thoughts of paperwork, patrols, and what he would have to do to ensure that Valjean could not enter the city without his knowledge.

Elisabet reached her door and swore out loud when she realized that it would have been the perfect opportunity to learn what his first name was.


	11. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note:**__** the next few chapters won't really have intervention from other Les Mis characters, they're kind of like a side-plot thing that will happen. Don't worry though, I tried y hardest to make them good! Review if you liked it please! Thank you guys so much for reading, all of your encouraging reviews and follows and favourites have made my day each and every day :)**_

A month had gone by and the town had selected a new mayor. A Monsieur Bernard- well off, shrewd… the usual to be expected. Gradually, the town seemed to be getting back to normal and the whispers began clearing up. The only people who seemed to be gloomy about the exposition of the Monsieur Madeleine were the poor and Elisabet. She understood now why Javert was chasing him and why it was such a compulsive thing for him, but nonetheless he had been a good man to her. Reformed, kind, and doing no harm to anyone. Everett agreed with her to some degree, but assumed that if everyone else said he was a bad man, then he must have been.

She and Javert had not spoken of that night since it happened, and his constant work and meetings with the new mayor had prevented her from seeing him much. They had met up a few times however, running into each other on the street or Javert walking with her to her home while on his patrol. She was happy that nothing that she had told him changed how he went about talking with her; it would not have been as fun for Elisabet if all he did was treat her with pity and caution.

"Does anyone ever call you by your first name?" she asked on one such occasion.

"No."

"But why not?"

"It is unprofessional."

"Do you ever forget what it is?"

"Yes, frequently."

"Really?!"

"No."

"Then why did you say yes?"

"Because idiotic questions warrant idiotic answers."

"You should tell me your first name."

"No."

"Why not? We're friends!"

"I have no time for friends. If I was on duty among my subordinates, or worse yet, my superiors, how would it look if a child came running up to me calling me by my first name?"

"Donkeys could take a lesson from you in stubbornness."

"Are you this rude to everyone, or just people who can arrest you?"

"Funny joke."

"I do not make jokes."

Despite her constant pestering, Javert decided that Lilybet's company was not entirely awful. She did her best to annoy him, it was true, but in the back of his mind he always held the memory of the night they shared in the church, of the secrets they exchanged. Even though things were the same as they had been, there was a sense of closeness between them that Javert had given up trying to fight. She did care about him. It was a fairly new concept to him -a somewhat intimidating one at that- but he was not about to let a simple emotion get the best of him. She had snuck past his defenses and seen his true self, but it was not as bad as he had thought it would be. In fact, sometimes he found himself wishing they would have another moment, that he could divulge more of himself. The ice within him had started to melt and his memories of childhood attacked him more frequently now. The sound of a door slamming or glass breaking made him cringe ever so slightly as the frightened child within him shook with the fear of a beating or attack. There were times when he had to shut himself in his office alone, the darkness closing in and showing him images of his childhood, of the convicts harassing him and the guards who would frequently stop it when they threatened him, of the hard and brutal work he had to go through to prove himself to the military recruiters that he was strong and that he could be trusted to be removed from prison and be allowed to serve among them.

"What's wrong?" Javert had been silent for a few minutes now; Elisabet looked up at him and he had the same vague look as when he was talking about his past. His eyes seem to be seeing into another place, a darker time. She placed her hand on his arm and he looked down at her as if awoken from sleep.

"Why should anything be wrong?"

"Don't lie, what's wrong?"

"I was merely remembering."

"About what?"

"It is none of your concern."

"Yes it is." She said it so matter-of-factly that Javert did not know whether to be comforted or offended.

"It is not something I wish to share at the moment."

She gave him a frustrated sigh. "Fine then." Thinking to herself for a moment, she asked him, "Mayor Madeleine- I mean, Valjean, is he… is he dead?"

To her surprise, Javert answered her. "Officially, yes."

"And unofficially?"

This time he hesitated. "I… I believe that he escaped. The prostitute he saved, she had a daughter. He stole her from an innkeeper and his wife and is hiding away somewhere. I know I glimpsed him running." Javert remembered that night well; he had stayed up all night on the roof of the church, praying to God above that he would give him the strength to find him one day. Javert never felt alone with the stars. Most nights when he was cold and alone as a child, he would stare up at the stars. They were his friends, each one. They were warm and always watched over him when there was no one else, each having a name and a story. It was a silly childhood fancy, he knew, but to him they were real. They were the only ones in his life that stayed constant and unwavering, forever keeping watch. He had hoped that when he died, he would join them up in the sky, shining and lighting the way for justice and good.

"Will you be going after him, then?" Elisabet asked, somewhat sadder than she wanted it to sound.

"Unfortunately, the law forbids it. I have been assigned as Inspector of this town, and chasing what the record considers a ghost goes against my duty. I will find him one day. I will bring him to justice."

"I know you will." She nodded gloomily as the good Mayor's warm smile and the kind wrinkles about his eyes swam before her mind.

"Lilybet! Are you bothering the Inspector again? Have you gotten into trouble?" to her surprise, Elisabet's father swung the door open just as she reached for it.

"He was just helping me home." She answered, going into the doorway.

Javert greeted Monsieur Barbier with a bow, his face solemn and implacable.

"Well see that you do not distract him from his duty. Inspector! I was planning on speaking with you anyway. Have you the time?"

"A moment, perhaps, Monsieur. Is there a problem? Javert will take care of anybody threatening the peace of this town." Javert answered. Elisabet stood in the doorway as her father walked out to face him. What business did he have with him? What was going on?

"Yes, yes, I know. You _are _wonderful at your job." Her father smiled his most businesslike smile. Even Javert was visibly confused at this point. Monsieur Barbier continued, "You see, I have been looking for a way to thank you ever since I heard that you were the one who brought my dear daughter to the hospital and saved her life. A weighty deed deserves a weighty reward. So, my late wife's brother is sending my niece up from the country for a week- that is, I know that you are a bachelor, and with your status and renown, an eligible one at that. She has agreed to meet with you-"

Elisabet could not resist a bust of laughter. "Which one, the fat one or the goose?!"

Her father shot her a warning look before continuing in a tone that seemed to forbid her from interrupting. "I have told her much about you and your efforts of cleaning up this town; I must say she is impressed. She is twenty years of age, her name is Clarice. She is on leave from university in Paris."

Elisabet's heart dropped. Clarice? Clarice was everything she wasn't. Refined, worldly, graceful… She was tall and willowy, with fiery hair and large, clear, light blue eyes. Elisabet did not know her much because she was always away at one finishing school or another, but she remembered her being very haughty and proper, and Elisabet was always jealous of her natural beauty and charm. Elisabet was the child who preferred to be outside playing with the boys and animals, or otherwise reading history books in her room or singing to herself. Clarice could play the harp, read in Latin, and write poetry. She was a lady in every sense of the word.

But why _Javert_? She wouldn't like Javert. He was reserved, almost shy at times. He was so solemn and harshly realistic. Clarcie belonged with a philosopher or a musician or a duke. Elisabet could not figure out why she cared so much, or why this was making her head spin.

Javert noticed the sudden look of panic on Elisabet's face. As soon as her father uttered her cousin's name she stared at him as if he had slapped her, and now it seemed she had gone into a shell just as Javert had earlier.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" he asked, looking at her curiously. She turned red at his attention, standing mute.

"She's just playing her games." Her father dismissed. "How about it?"

Javert saw no other option other than agreeing. He had no intention of looking for a woman for himself, he had no time for illusions such as love. Nevertheless, he knew what was expected of men his age. Marriage. Family. Besides, it would be incredibly rude to refuse a reward, even if it was not one he would have chosen for himself. Did he really want it, though? He had resigned himself to life as a lone wolf. He did not need anybody by his side; he had no intention of sharing his past or his life with anybody else. It would complicate his life. But what could he do? Displeasing an important man of the town could reflect negatively on him. He decided that one meeting would not hurt. It was his duty, nothing more.

But why did she look so upset? Was this cousin bad in some way? Did she hurt her?

"I would be honored, Monsieur" he said, as formally as possible.

"Excellent!" Monsieur Barbier clapped his hands together. "I will go get my letter of acceptance; you just have to sign it. Wait a moment." He hurried back into the house and Elisabet and Javert were left alone.

"Is she not likable?" Javert asked. He did not doubt that Lilybet would be happy if he decided to settle down into something. She had her happiness with Everett, if she thought he was less lonely then she would have more peace of mind.

Elisabet looked at him and unintentionally pouted. "She's perfect!" she exclaimed, perhaps more childlike than she had hoped. When Javert just stared at her in innocent confusion, she continued. "She a perfect lady, she plays the hard, speaks Latin, doesn't get dirty, always wears dresses and is just all around beautiful and graceful and perfect."

"Is that bad?" Javert was honestly confused. When it came to his job, Javert could smell a criminal from a mile away. When it came to women, well… he never had the chance in his life to court one, nor had it ever been a priority of his. Some were menacing and treacherous, willing to sell their bodies for a small profit. Others seemed to be dolls, never getting a scratch or a spot of dirt on them, never out of a dress or speaking out of line. And then there was Lilybet, who perplexed him to no end.

Elisabet sighed. He was ignorant as a schoolboy. "No, it's not. She's just… no. Have fun, I'm sure she's everything you'd ever want. Thank you for walking me." She smiled and glumly walked into the house. Why did it have to be Clarice, of all people? Marguerite was loud and obnoxious and fat as a cow. Lilia was scrawny and long-necked and vain. But Clarice did not have a single fault. Surely she should be happy for Javert, but for some reason, she couldn't find it in her. She chided herself for being so selfish. Clarice would make him happy, she knew it. Clarice would learn his first name.

She glanced at the clock with a start. Elisabet had almost forgotten that she was going to a café with Everett in thirty minutes. She decided that she would call on Gretchen on the way and invite her. For some reason she did not feel like being alone with him that night.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note:**__** AHHH sorry 'bout the long wait. Next chapter should be coming within a few days' time if I'm not swamped with schoolwork and model UN stuff *knocks on wood viciously***_

The morning of the day of Clarice's arrival Elisabet found herself cleaning every room in the house.

"She is your cousin," her father had said repeatedly, "we must go out of our way to ensure that she has a nice stay."

And on one such occasion he added, "Oh, and if you happen to see the Inspector, do not bother him to walk you home or any such nonsense. Rumors will spread in town, and I cannot have Clarice think that a potential suitor of hers has been cavorting with you."

Elisabet had been dreading her cousin's coming. Her father would no doubt take her to see all of his wealthy friends that she had refused to meet, everyone would begin to compare the two of them: Elisabet to her more talented, refined, and beautiful cousin, and she would be spending all of her other time with Javert. She knew that he would take a liking to Clarice, just as everybody always does. She was a lady and Elisabet was an annoying child. But would Clarice feel the same about Javert? Would he tell her all about his childhood? Would he show her his hands and tell her all about every scar? Would she then hold his hands and tell him that she did not care, and all she wanted to do was show him that he could trust her and that someone cared about him? Would he tell her his first name?

She was torn; on one hand, she cared about him and wanted him to find happiness. She wanted him to find a nice woman and get married and she just wanted to be able to look at her friend's face and see him free of burden or sadness. On the other hand, she wished that it was anybody but her perfect cousin.

Elisabet turned towards the sound of a key turning in the lock. "Shit." she turned towards the clock, was it two already?

The door swung open and there she stood. Clarice looked just like she remembered- she was taller than Elisabet, with a blue satin dress draping her willowy frame. Her bright red hair was tied in a neat braid draped over her shoulder, and she stood in the doorway, a polite little smile fixed onto her porcelain skin.

"Dear cousin, I haven't seen you in over a year!" she said, putting her hands on Elisabet's shoulders and lightly brushing her lips on each cheek.

"Hi Clarice." Elisabet tightened her lips into a smile.

"Lilybet has spent the whole morning cleaning the house for you." Her father quipped, holding Clarice's bag behind her.

Clarice looked around the house, her smile still on her face. "Excellent try. Uncle Christoph, where shall I bring my things?"

"Nonsense! You will have no worries so long as you are a guest in this house. You will be in our guest room, I had it specially furnished for you. Lilybet, take your cousin's things upstairs-"

"-Don't call me that. My name is Elisabet."

"Young lady-"

"-Uncle, if I may interject, I think it's a fine thing that Elisabet prefers her given name to silly, childish nicknames. It shows maturity."

"Thank you, cousin." Elisabet answered her approving nod politely.

"When will I meet this man you've been writing about, Uncle? This Inspector Javert?" Elisabet's ears pricked as she gathered her cousin's things.

"Ah yes yes yes, I've arranged to have him come in three hours' time when he's off of his patrol. He will show you around the town. Until then Lil- Elisabet- will help you settle in."

"Officer Martin is paying a visit to me in two and a half hours, father." She reminded him. She had to get out of the house, especially today. Sitting alone at home while Javert was out with Clarice was too much.

"Well until then make your cousin welcome. Show her to her room."

"Yes, father." Elisabet sighed as she gestured for her cousin to follow her up the stairs.

"So who is this Officer Martin you're seeing?" Clarice asked once they had gotten to the guest room.

"Just a friend of mine." She shrugged.

"A handsome friend?"

"I guess so."

"Come on, cousin, don't be boring." She flashed a toothy grin and sat on the bed.

"His name is Everett; I met him while he was on his patrol one day." Elisabet saw no need to go into details. "Sometimes he and I go on outings."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Ohhh shame on you for making me think you so isolated and boyish! Is baby Elisabet getting courted!?"

"I'm _not _a baby! And I'm not getting courted."

There was a silence while Elisabet went about unpacking Clarice's clothing and other materials and placing them about the room. Clarice broke it when she conversationally started, "You know, your father was talking to me on the way here. He wants me to spend time with you. Tame you, he says."

"Tame me?"

"He says that you're quite crude and don't know how to behave like a lady of your status. You always were a boyish child. Don't you fret, with my help you could almost be like me."

Elisabet slammed Clarice's Latin book down on the dresser. "What makes you think I want to be anything like you?"

"Darling, look at yourself. You run around cavorting with the poor. You don't know the first thing about fashion or poise. Uncle even tells me that you wear _pants_-"

"So what? I like myself the way I am. I don't care."

"You are a lady of status." Clarice stood up close to Elisabet now, looking directly down and spoke sternly, "Things are expected of you. I know that neither of us wants to watch you let down your entire family with by acting brutish. I only want to help you, believe me I have your best intentions at heart."

"Just leave me alone." Elisabet began to walk out of the room, fuming.

"Alright alright alright, I see this is a sensitive subject for you. But stay, won't you? Help me get settled, I will be here for the next three weeks after all. I haven't seen you in so long! Tell me about this Inspector Javert fellow."

A smile unknowingly crept onto Elisabet's face. "He has a good heart."

"How does he _look_? Is he handsome? Charming?"

She turned and busied herself with a dress so that her cousin could not see her face turn red. She rarely thought of Javert in that way. "I don't know… I don't think he really ever needs to be charming…"

Clarice groaned. "Is he ugly?"

"No! He's… handsome, I think."

"That's good. From what Uncle told me he seems to be awfully brave. I've never heard the family name Javert, though. What do you know of his birth? It wouldn't do for me to be with someone too common."

Elisabet almost said that she would then not even find him worthy to wipe her shoes. She almost said that he was born in a jail. She almost said that the very scum he is famous for purging the streets of is the childhood he left behind. She almost said that Clarice was nowhere near good enough for him if that made her pass judgment on him in any way.

Instead, however, she turned back to her cousin. "I'm sure it's fine. He's a high ranking officer, isn't he?"

"True, true. I must admit, though, after sharing supper with the cousin of the crowned prince, I _do _have slightly higher expectations." Elisabet did not giggle with her cousin.

She knew it was jealousy. She knew that, aside from being more than a little annoying, Clarice had not done anything wrong. Elisabet watched her cousin laugh at her own joke, girlish giggled coming from a perfectly formed mouth while she sat with her ankles perfectly crossed. She wondered if Javert would like her. He would. Clarice was beautiful and refined and knew exactly what to say. She would not stop to feed the poor and if Javert arrested some poor wretch for stealing fruit, she would only praise him for his nobility. She was a perfect lady.

"Clarice, dear, would you care to join me for tea?" her father called down. He often asked Elisabet to join him for tea, but she did not like it and so would decline until he stopped asking. It was very strong and bitter; her father never put sugar or anything into it.

"I would be delighted, Uncle!" Clarice called back. She looked expectantly at her cousin. "Will you come too?"

"No thank you, I have things to do." Elisabet sighed. She knew Clarice meant well, they just didn't mix.

Two hours later Elisabet sat downstairs, waiting for a knock on the door. Clarice had gone up to practice her harp and beautiful music was now drifting down and mocking Elisabet.

A knock.

She opened the door and there stood Everett, his black hair reaching his eyebrows and his eyes mirroring the smile on his face. In his hand he held a bouquet of tulips.

"Flowers? It's barely Spring, where did you find these?"

"Flower shop. Lilies for Lily." He answered proudly, in his simple way.

Elisabet just smiled up at him appreciatively. A voice came from behind her. "Good evening, Monsieur. Are you the Inspector I was expecting?" Clarice was standing at the base of the stairs looking, if possible, even more perfect than usual. Her hair was cascading in tight curls down her back and her porcelain skin stood flawlessly against her pink dress.

Everett stared at her, a little bit too wide-eyed for Elisabet's liking. He found his voice when he answered. "Oh, uh, Mademoiselle, I have not had the pleasure- I am, well that is to say I'm not the Inspector but I am an officer, um… Everett Martin, Mademoiselle." He walked over and kissed her hand.

"Oh, Officer Martin! You must forgive me, I am so dreadfully sorry, I am expecting Inspector Javert. My dear Uncle Christoph has asked him to show me around the town, I will be here for the next month on leave from university."

"Lily did not mention that she had a cousin. It is wonderful to meet you Mademoiselle-"

"-Her name is Clarice." Elisabet cut across impatiently. She did not like at all what was going on. "Shall we go now?"

"Now, cousin, don't be in such a rush! I don't mind. It is only polite that you let Officer Martin sit for a while. Come, Monsieur, Elisabet had told me much about you."

"Good things, I hope?" he grinned.

"Only the best." Elisabeth had no choice but to lead Everett to a chair by the hearth. She fetched him a drink as he and Clarice sat talking. She was telling him all about school and Latin and harp playing, while he eagerly listened and motioned for Elisabet to sit down next to him. And so she sat listening, helpless and angry. Why? Why was this happening? She knew Everett was handsome but surely Clarice wouldn't be this rude. Was it her imagination or were they flirting? Was Clarice leaning forward towards him? Did he look charmed by her? If Everett was acting like this, she dreaded to see what Javert would be like. He would probably take her by the arm and smile the same way. Elisabet remembered how he had smiled at her that night months ago when he walked her home from school and they saw the drunken man come out of the bar. She had clutched his arm in fear and he had tried to comfort her, smiling at her. He would probably give Clarice those smiles all the time. He would listen to her college days just as eagerly. She imagined him kissing her hand, and then, clear as day, saw how he would put one scarred hand under her chin and place a soft kiss on her lips… Suddenly, she felt a bit queasy. She had almost forgotten it was Everett sitting next to her when he placed his hand on hers.

"Are you alright? You look a bit sick." He said to her, looking closely at her face.

"Dear you seem to have gone pale, can I get you water?" When she heard Clarice's voice Elisabet glared at her before realizing that she was purely imagining everything. It would not happen… yet.

A second knock made Elisabet jump. She walked a little too quickly, to the door and opened it to reveal Javert- ever in his uniform- standing outside. After such a vivid scenario playing out in her head, Elisabet could not muster up a smile. She could not muster up a warm greeting for her friend. She looked at him blankly. "Hi. Clarice is inside, you can come in." Javert's face betrayed a fleeting look of confusion at her uncharacteristic greeting before he answered with a bow.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle, thank you."

Elisabet watched Clarice as she took in the man standing before her. An inner roar of fury caught her by surprise when she saw Clarice's smile fade slightly as she looked Javert over. She rose and walked over to him, holding her hand out. Javert took it and lightly brushed his lips across her delicate white hand as he looked at her.

"Inspector Javert, it is good to finally meet you. I have heard wonderful things." Elisabet could not help but note how much more formal she was in addressing Javert than when she met Everett.

"Mademoiselle is too kind." Javert replied, his face unreadable. Even Elisabet, who prided herself on knowing him well, could not interpret his face. He was good at masking emotions; she had to give him that. On an impulse, she sat down next to Everett and grabbed his arm. With one hand she pushed his thick, black hair off of his brow.

"Your hair is getting so long!"she told him with a smile, "What ever will you do when it obscures your eyes?"

Everett laughed and Elisabet looked back at Javert. They met eyes for a split second and he looked away rapidly, as if caught, back at Clarice's face.

"Will you begin your tour? I am quite excited." As Clarice said the words, her face gave no hint of excitement. She smiled her charming smile and her clear blue eyes showed polite interest. Why was she so much nicer to Everett? Why did she not really smile at Javert, why did her smile fade when he walked in? Elisabet always smiled when he walked her home. She always spoke to him with interest when they had a conversation. Why was all of this getting her angry at Clarice?

"As you wish, Mademoiselle." He opened the door for her and offered his arm, just as Elisabet thought he would.

"Will I see you again, Monsieur Everett?" Clarice asked him, turning her head to the chair by the hearth.

"I should think so. Good evening, Mademoiselle." He returned her smile as the door shut behind her and a feeling of emptiness settled over Elisabet. She saw her hand resting on Everett's arm and she quickly pulled it away as if singed.

"Your cousin is quite nice." Everett commented when they were gone.

"I know." Elisabet said grumpily.

"What is it?"

She thought for a moment before looking at him. "Should I be more lady-like?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, should I… should I be more polite, have more manners, be proper, wear more dresses… you know!"

"Well I don't mind… but if you want to, ask Clarice, she's very good at that." Elisabet did not miss the quick look of admiration he had at the thought of her cousin. The vision of her lips meeting Javert's swam before her eyes again when Elisabet resolved her mind on a decision.

It was nearly nine in the evening when she got home. She walked up the stairs, head bowed like a dog being scolded by its master. Elisabet opened the door to the guest room and found Clarice in bed, reading.

"I must ask you to knock first, cousin." Clarice lightly admonished.

"Sorry." Elisabet said meekly. "I just wanted to ask… I mean, could you… would you…"

"What is the matter?" Clarice looked at her, concerned. She put her book down next to her and sat up, motioning for Elisabet to sit on the bed.

She shook her head. "No, no nothing. I was just wondering if you… that offer you made before, that I refused to teach me to be more… to be proper… could I maybe take you up on that?"

A pleased smile shined on Clarice's features. "Of course, dear. In two weeks' time, Uncle tells me there will be a gala to welcome the new mayor into office. By then you shall be the epitome of grace- or, well, as close as we can get you." She giggled again as she pulled Elisabet in for a hug.


	13. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note:**__** this will be quite long, just a warning! Also sorry if it seems a little OOC for Javert, but hey, if this is going to keep its Friendship/Romance rating, I think Javert allows for some interpretation in certain situations. Well, I hope so at least. It's early in the morning and I just wanted to crank out another chapter so that I wouldn't leave you guys hanging again. I hope you all really like it! These reviews have meant sooo much!**_

Two weeks. Two weeks of walking with a book on her head, of learning to speak in careful, measured tones, of acting like a perfect lady. Elisabet walked with her head steady and straight, she spoke with the manners of a princess, she knew which fork was for the salad and which was for the meat, and she hated it.

Clarice was a good teacher, she could not deny that. She could have sworn that Clarice herself was a princess if she hadn't known she was her cousin. At first, Elisabet seemed hopeless. She had neither the desire nor the drive to be a lady- she found it dreadfully boring and stiff, and preferred to go watch her friends play outside than learn to sit straight.

"Barbier is a good name, you are lucky to have it." Her cousin scolded on the day she threw the forks across the floor in frustration. "Just as an apprentice must live up to the expectations of his master, a girl must live up to her good name to be a lady. It is expected of you."

"She's very good at that." Everett's words echoed in her head. The look of admiration he had in his bright, green eyes when he said her name. Javert's lips on her hand, her arm on his. Elisabet groaned and picked the silverware up, mumbling a half-hearted apology. Clarice stared down at her with the condescending smile she knew she hated.

She's testing me, Elisabet thought, she's testing to see if I'll get angry for that. She knows she's driving me to the end of my wits.

Instead, she cemented her resolve and forced a disgustingly wide and sweet smile onto her face. Whatever else she could take from her, she would never break her and prove herself right. "What is next, Clarice?" Clarice gave an approving nod and resumed teaching the basics of supper manners. She had forbidden Elisabet from seeing Everett for the fortnight; "he must be surprised when he meets the new you", she had said over and over. Clarice herself had but once seen Javert again, and it was in the same, cold formality she received him in the first time.

"He's quite boring." She confided. "He doesn't really say anything, and he when he does it's always about his work. He's a very good listener though. A bit too sullen, if you ask me."

"You don't really know him, you can't say any of that." Elisabet challenged.

Clarice laughed, "Oh, and you do? How I envy your youthful innocence."

"You're four years older than me." Elisabet reminded.

Ignoring this, Clarice continued. "That Officer Martin- Everett- he's so handsome and kind! Being in my position is a burden. So many suitors to meet and you have to act like you're grateful for every single one. The Inspector knows his manners and social graces, I must admit- but still. I can tell he is charmed by me. When he decides to court me, I hope he'll try and put more of an effort into his conversational skills. He's not completely unattractive, he is very strong looking. Who knows? Maybe Uncle has found me a good match."

Elisabet kept her head down the whole time. The outrage and the jealousy were threatening to burst unless she kept herself still and her mouth closed. Clarice may have been beautiful, she may have been refined, but she was also vain, selfish, and completely blind. What did Javert see in her? She prayed he did not see what everyone else saw, but she knew it was futile. She had a way into the hearts of anyone she met, surely she could even reach the distant, locked up heart of Javert. How dare she criticize him? How dare she say that she did not know him? Elisabet wanted to yell. She wanted to scream at her cousin, to tell her that she was lucky that Javert took interest in her. That he was human, perhaps more human than she was herself. That she should be grateful he gave her his arm when they first met.

Instead, however, all she choked out was, "Did you learn his first name?"

"What?" Clarice asked absentmindedly. "Oh, no, he never told me. Strange man, isn't he?"

* * *

Now, thirty minutes before the gala, Elisabet stood side by side with her cousin, listening to her father.

"The carriage will arrive soon and we will be on our way. Elisabet, your dress is clean?"

"Yes, father."

"Good, good. Inspector Javert will meet you outside of the hall to escort you, Clarice. Elisabet, Officer Martin will meet you as well. They will take you to your seats. There are some people I would like Clarice to meet. Some friends of mine who I have been going on about you to." He gave Clarice an approving smile. "I must go make sure I have everything."

When he was gone, Clarice turned back to Elisabet, who was clad in a mint green satin dress that had come all the way from England. She put her hands in Elisabet's honey brown locks, which were perfectly curled and positioned to frame her face.

"What a good job we've done on you, cousin." She smiled brightly. "You look simply radiant. Nobody will recognize you! I know how hard you've been working, so I got you a little surprise." She walked off into the kitchen, and emerged with her hands clutched around something.

"What is it?"

"Close your eyes." Elisabet did as she was told, and was led over to another space. She felt something slip into her hair and when she opened her eyes, she observed a small, white flower clip in her hair. It was simple and elegant.

"It's beautiful." She said.

"It's the new you." Clarice hugged her cousin, a wide, pleased smile on her face. She looked like the proud mother of a baby who had just learned to talk. Elisabet took a deep breath and smiled.

"Girls, the carriage is outside!"

"Let's go. I can't wait until Everett sees you!" Clarice quickly walked out of the room, leaving Elisabet alone.

She exhaled as the smile turned into a look of worry. Could she do this? Could she really go and pretend she was a perfect lady? Could she eat with the right fork? Could she walk with balance and grace? Could she live up to the face staring her in the mirror? She thought of Everett.

She thought of Javert.

She _was _a perfect lady. She _was_ the face in the mirror now. "The new you." She wondered what Javert would think. He would be impressed, most like. He would be happy that she was not a nuisance to him anymore. She was refined now.

"Elisabet! Come, we are waiting!"

…..

It was a small town they lived in, but nevertheless the town hall had a certain grandeur. The ceiling was high, the windows were stained like those in a church, and chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Monsieur Barbier led Clarice and Elisabet into the large doorway and Elisabet observed high society at play. The men were all clad in their suits while the women were in dresses of every color, their hair styled every which way, yet somehow everyone managed to look all the same.

This is my world, Elisabet thought glumly, this is where I belong.

"Mademoiselle Clarice, you look lovely as ever." Everett came out of the sea of uniform and took her cousin's hand and kissed it, flashing his most charming smile

"Monsieur Everett, you are too kind. You are looking handsome yourself." Clarice tittered back.

. He did not seem to notice that he walked right past her until she cleared her throat.

"Lil- Lily? Is that really you?"

"Good evening, Monsieur. I am most pleased to see you here." She recited with a careful smile as she put her hand out for him to kiss.

He did so, never taking his eyes off of her face. "You look beautiful! What did you do?"

"Isn't she just precious?" Clarice asked, dotingly. "The lovely lady you see before you is the reason I had to hide her away from you for these past two weeks. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not!" his eyes flashed in pleased surprise and Elisabet knew that she had done right. "You're even speaking differently, it's wonderful, and you really look lovely. A lot like your cousin, in fact."

"Mademoiselle Barbier, Mademoiselle Rousseau." Javert seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Elisabet looked at him- he seemed to be the only one not in a suit. She found it endearing, the way he always wore his uniform. This one, however, was clearly for special occasions. The silver buttons matched the silver epaulettes on his shoulders, and he wore three medals pinned to his chest. Despite herself, Elisabet thought he looked quite handsome.

"Good evening, Inspector." Again, Clarice's smile was a mask of perfect civility as she curtseyed to him. Elisabet did not notice that she herself was staring at him until Clarice nudged her in the shoulder.

"It is good to see you, Monsieur Inspector. I trust you are doing well?" she curtseyed as well, and his eyes looked her up and down.

"I know you may have trouble recognizing me; my dear cousin Clarice has taught me much these past two weeks."

Clarice took Elisabet's arm and beamed, "Isn't she just lovely?"

Javert bowed to Elisabet. "Indeed, Mademoiselle." His pale green eyes met hers. She was expecting surprise, pleasure, maybe even some sort of approval- but he was looking at her like anybody else, no hint of recognition or emotion. It was the same cold stare of sheer politeness that he gave Clarice, that he gave everyone. He stared into her eyes as if trying to figure something out. It caught her completely off guard and gave a fleeting look of confusion. He _did_ look at Clarice that way, but why was she unsatisfied with it now? He was staring at her but there was no warmth. Did she look bad? Did she offend him? Did he not want her to have more manners?

Elisabet stopped and wondered why she cared so much. Everett liked it, didn't he? Surely that was all that mattered.

Neither was aware of the minute that passed until Clarice interjected. "Yes, well… shall we take our seats? I believe they are serving dinner."

Javert turned his back and offered Clarice his arm. That was the end of that.

"I think you might be the prettiest girl here." Everett said, giving Elisabet his arm. The best she could do was give him a small smile and walk, with perfect poise, to her chair.

The orchestra had just started playing when Javert took his seat. He shifted in his chair and made sure his medals were straight. After spending an uncomfortable half an hour speaking to the upper crust of the area, he was glad to finally find relief in food. Javert was always uneasy in these situations. He did not know if it was his imagination, but it seemed that everyone treated him with a cold civility- they knew his background: no details, of course, but it was known that he was born among the scum of the streets. A few even knew he was a half-gypsy. They respected him, however. He prided himself on that. Whatever else he may have been, he was a wonderful officer. These men saw him, in fact, as a sort of champion of society- born in dirt and raised to the head of the town police force. He was their protector.

He was their guard dog.

Javert turned to Clarice, sitting directly on his right. He assumed that she knew nothing; otherwise she would break off their meetings immediately. Yes, all high society of the area greatly appreciated him: that did not mean that they would be interested in introducing him to their daughters. Nobosy ever invited him to their small dinners or private parties; it was only these town-wide events that he was seen fit to attend. Not that he wanted that, of course. Javert quickly got used to the distance. He was more comfortable that way. It was only important for him that he was needed- to push back the darkness, to protect the innocent people. They did need him. They depended on him to do his duty, and he would not disappoint them. And yet sometimes, when he rode past homes alive with guests and laughter, his own felt just a little bit colder. Thought he was completely grateful for being there, (he swelled with pride every time someone shook his hand, no matter how unfeeling. He knew where he could have very well ended up) he would never belong in their world; he was just staring at it from inside a glass bottle.

"Your town hall is so quaint." Mademoiselle Rousseau commented, flashing the smile of a lady at him.

He inclined his head. "I am very please you are enjoying yourself, Mademoiselle." She turned away again and began chatting with Officer Martin. Lilybet was not wrong, Clarice Rousseau was indeed a beautiful woman. She was poised, elegant, graceful, and exactly the same as every other poised, elegant, and graceful woman he met.

And now, so was Lilybet.

When he first laid eyes on her he couldn't believe it. He knew she could dress nicely if she wanted to, she certainly had the means, but it was as if the air around her changed. It was tighter, colder. He half expected her to groan or complain about the gala, about her cousin, about anything. No, she greeted him the way everyone else did. She called him Inspector. He even expected her mocking smile to take over her features, but her eyes remained cold and polite. He could swear that, except for the height and hair difference, that she and her cousin were twins.

However, he did take notice of Everett Martin's reaction. He looked at her the way he looked at her cousin the night they first met, he complimented the 'new her'" Javert only took notice of Mademoiselle Rousseau when she called their attention to the seating. All he could do was be himself, be the impassive Inspector Javert. And then she stared at him with such confusion- what did she expect? He was not going to embarrass himself by treating her like the nuisance she was before, he would not dare call her Lilybet. Maybe that was what she wanted, he thought with a pang, for him to embarrass himself. Perhaps she was the same as the rest of them, after all. Perhaps he was right all along; that she was just a naïve, rich girl who enjoyed the thrill of carousing with the poor and annoying the isolated, impassive Inspector. He glanced at her as he had this thought and looked away immediately when he saw her looking his way.

She was sitting next to Martin, two seats away from himself. She sat with her head down, staring at her plate, in thought. Every now and then she would look up and smile at someone who greeted her, kissing the women on both cheeks and allowing her hand to be kissed by the men. He assumed she was upset at the lack of attention Martin was paying her; he sat deep in conversation with her cousin. Javert heard their conversation.

"Then, the man had the nerve to pull a knife on me! He tried to cut me but I leapt out of the way. I took out my sword and told him that if he did not come quietly, I would silence him myself. The family that he was trying to rob was so grateful that they sent me a basket of sweets the very next day."

Javert, of course, knew this was a lie. Some wretch had snuck into someone's garden to steal a vegetable; he and Martin had gone over when they heard the cry for help. Martin began brandishing his rapier when all the man did was pull out the cucumber he stole. Javert ordered him to put it away- pulling a weapon out on an unarmed opponent was both cowardly and dishonorable. Javert had Martin arrest the man and the family had sent _him_ the basket of sweets but he, who was not fond of candy, left it on Martin's desk when he came in early that morning.

"Oh goodness, you're so very brave!" Mademoiselle Rousseau exclaimed nonetheless. He did not blame Martin, of course. The boy was young, proud, and stupid. He did not fail to notice that he called Lilybet 'Lily', nor did he fail to notice the annoyed look that crossed her face for a fleeting second every time he did. Javert bragged when he was that age, as well. Javert felt a bit bad for the girl, sitting there while her escort sat entranced by someone else. Javert would be angry for himself as well if he had cared in any way. He was used to it happening- she, like everyone else, favored conversation with the dashing young officer rather than the solemn man Javert was; besides, he was even a bit relieved. He was not planning on romancing her. He had no time for courting or women or anything of the sort. Emotions would complicate everything. He could not carry a conversation with her. Both of their meetings had long lapses of awkward silence- he had no urge to speak of his personal life, and she was visibly bored when he spoke of the cases he had been through. Nevertheless, he would have to continue to see her like he promised Monsieur Barbier. It was his duty. The whole process of courting confused and, thought he would never admit it, intimidated him. All of these women were all the same: superficial, doll-like, and far more interested in the gossip of their peers than anything of substance. As he watched Lilybet sip tea with one pinky raised and titter at a joke her father made, he realized that there were no exceptions. Part of him hardly thought this was the girl who ripped her dress to bind his wounds and stayed up half the night while he recovered, the other part was angry at him for allowing this to sadden him.

The first few courses had been served and the musicians were playing a merry waltz.

"Oh, I love this song!" Clarice said, smiling at Everett. Elisabet did not fail to note that she almost completely ignored Javert the whole time, giving all of her attention to Everett. She was behaving exactly the way she was supposed to She remembered which fork was for what, the proper way to sit, and the right way to greet people- she even forced herself to swallow down tea. Even her father turned to her and complimented her excellent change. It was a hollow pride she felt for it all. She had been glancing at Javert ever so often. He was quiet the entire time, looking at his plate and eating politely. Yet, Elisabet could not help but notice the sadness in his eyes. He looked sad, almost disappointed. She assumed that it was because Clarice would not talk to him; for such a 'perfect lady', Elisabet found that awfully rude. Once, however, their eyes met, and he looked so hurt that she wanted to reach across the table and ask him what was wrong, she wanted to run over and pull him up and make him tell her what had happened. She wanted to hug him.

She restrained herself, knowing that it would be immensely improper. He certainly wouldn't appreciate it, getting embarrassed by a sixteen year old girl in front of his peers. Why was it causing her guilt?

Everett turned to her hesitantly and whispered in her ear. "Would you mind if I took a dance with Clarice? Javert doesn't even look like he's listening to the music, he's not going to ask her, and she's a guest here-"

"-Yes, of course. Have fun." Elisabet cut across. Reality crashed onto her. She could look and act the part as much as she wanted, Clarice would always win everyone over in the end. She was no match for her.

"Inspector, sir, may I take Mademoiselle for the waltz?" Javert looked up at Martin. He looked behind him at Lilybet, whose sudden look of bitterness darkened her features.

"Would Mademoiselle Barbier not mind?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of her.

"She does not."

"Then whatever Mademoiselle Rousseau likes." With that, he whisked her away by the hand and two empty chairs now separated him from her.

She looked up and noticed him looking at the empty space. "How are you liking the gala, Monsieur Inspector?" she asked.

"I enjoy it, and you, Mademoiselle?"

"As do I."

Javert turned his eyes back on the people on the floor as a young man approached Lilybet.

"Would the Mademoiselle honor me with a dance?"

"I am afraid I am not much of a dancer."

"Now is a good a time as any to learn, would you not agree?" Javert saw her hesitating, an unknown hope clinging to him.

"Oh she is just bashful, she would be delighted to dance!" The hope was dashed when her father accepted for her and she rose, taking the boy's hand.

Loneliness gripped Javert as he stared at the three empty chairs beside him. What was he hoping for? He was not meant for this world. The one thing he hated about galas was that they served as a reminder that no matter what, the gutter he was born in would shadow him everywhere he went. And so he rose, like he always did, and made his way out onto the balcony garden to wait for the ordeal to end.

* * *

After deciding that she had embarrassed herself enough, Elisabet said goodbye to her current dance partner and returned to her seat. She looked onto the dance floor and saw Everett and Clarice dancing, well past the first waltz. She felt a twinge of jealousy. They had briefly traded partners before returning, but aside from that they danced together without end. Clarice laughed and smiled her beautiful smile, lighting up the room. She had the grace of a ballerina, whereas Elisabet had the grace of one who was shot in the foot. She did not want to dance in the first place, but it was the proper thing to do. Proper, proper, proper. Everett was completely smitten by her- but it affected her slightly that it took changing her whole character to do it. Javert, on the opposite end, seemed so much colder towards her- had she upset him in some way? What had she done? It quickly turned to anger. If she wanted to change, why shouldn't she? She wanted to become a better person to impress herself, Everett… and, she realized with shame, Javert. How dare he be upset, when she had gone through this to not be the annoying little girl? It was his loss, she decided. People loved her now, people approved of her. But, deep inside, she hated herself for giving up. For trying so hard to impress people who didn't even care about her.

The worry returned when she looked around the room and did not see Javert.

"Pardon, father," she touched him on the shoulder, "have you seen where the Inspector has gone? Uh… Clarice wanted to know."

"Javert? Yes, he went out to the balcony."

"Thank you, father." She answered, walking away. "I must go to the powder room, if Monsieur Martin asks." With that lie, she proceeded down the hallway to find Javert.

When she got to the door, Elisabet stood at the edge, peering in. She approached slowly and found herself at the edge, looking down over the town. Aside from a few house lights here and there, the town was settling into slumber. Beyond the town, she saw the hills with their pastures and farm animals and she felt a jolt of homesickness for her uncle's home. When she turned her head to the side, she started at the sight of Javert. He seemed not to notice her, it was the most relaxed she had ever seen him. He was leaning casually over the balcony, staring up into the sky with a strange look of longing.

It disappeared when she took a step towards him. He looked at her, immediately straightening and resuming his impassive face. He bowed low.

"Mademoiselle, I apologize for being caught off-guard. I will take my leave-"

"-No." she said immediately. Javert looked at her curiously. "Please, stay, I don't mind." She stood awkwardly and curtseyed for lack of anything to do. It would have passed as a common courtesy if she had not tripped over her own heel and fell to the ground. "Shit." She swore, quickly covering her mouth and staring at him, wide eyed. "I did not mean, I am so sorry, I-"

Without a word, Javert walked over and offered her his hand. She stared at his face and was elated when she saw what she thought was a tiny smile on his lips. She took his hand and was impressed with the ease at which he managed to help- he lifted her as if she was a doll.

"Ah, thank you, Monsieur Inspector" she told him uncomfortably.

"Not at all, Mademoiselle. What is it you require of me?"

"Were you not surprised when you saw me?"

"Pardon?"

"When you saw me at first. Evere- Officer Martin- he was completely taken aback when he saw me. Do I not look different?"

"Should you, Mademoiselle?"

"Do I?"

This time Javert hesitated. "You look lovely tonight." He said, formally.

Tha was it? He was still going on like this? Even out here, when they w ere alone? What did she do to him? What did she do? Elisabet snapped. Fuck this lady-like persona. "Why are you being such a jerk?" she asked, stamping her foot.

He stood firm, his eyes widening at the sudden change. "I apologize if I have offended-"

"-You're damn right you've offended! I spent two weeks walking with a book on my head, learning the difference between forks, having to listen to Clarice go on and on about manners, and for what? You treat me like a total stranger!"

"Why?" he asked, his voice ever-level.

"Why what?" she spat.

"Why did you do all of that?"

Elisabet stuttered, looking for an answer. For Everett, she wanted to say. For Clarice. For you.

"It… it is only fitting a lady of my class." Was what she actually said. He raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing what she said. Softly, she added, "I just… I just want people to be proud of me."

"You did not seem to care about that before."

"Before what? Before Clarice got here? Before Everett fell head over heels for her and you became another one of her suitors? I could never hope to compare to her."

"And you never will." The look she shot him was enough for him to realize that he worded himself badly. What could he do? Here she was, the girl who had convinced him that she was just like the rest was now spilling her feelings to him. Dangerous criminals, he could handle. Upset girls, he could not. He quickly began to amend himself. "No no no, not like that. What I had meant was, you could never be who you are not. Of course I recognized you. No amount of poise, satin, or manners can change who you are. If you were covered in dirt, you would still be exactly the same." Javert knew that all too well himself.

Elisabet stepped closer to Javert and looked up at him. "So you're saying I have no chance? I'll always be second best to her?"

"From what I gather, you are very different people. Comparing you would be futile. If you try to be like her, of course you will fail. You are not her, you never will be. If she tried to be you, she would fail for the same reasons. If you dislike this, if you dislike being like this, then don't be. You cannot deny that you were born into this and must play your part, but you must find a balance that would make you happy."

She was taken aback at Javert's insightfulness. "Why were you so cold and formal with me?"

"I… assumed that you were attempting to mock me by expecting an informal greeting." He turned his back and took a few steps away. "I believed that I was right in thinking you were only a higher-class girl, getting fun in giving charity to the poor and trying to taunt me."

So that was the look he gave her, she realized with a start. "I would never do that to you." She said defensively.

"I do not know."

"Well I do." She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around. "This is why I hate these people, they're all like that, I'm not like them-"

"-Then why were you trying to be?"

"Because… because I don't know! I thought you would be happy. I thought you would be pleased like Everett was. I thought you wanted me to change and stop being such an annoying child to you."

"I never asked you to change anything."

"Well why wouldn't you? You always tell me how annoying I am-"

"Changing how you act on the surface will only serve to make yourself unhappy. You do not want to be like them. You would still attempt to prevent the arrest of a little wretch, you would still buy sweets for the children living under the bridge, you would still help me when I do not ask for it. The fence can be painted white, but it will eventually chip and you will see the brown wood beneath."

Elisabet turned and sat on the small stone bench.

"These shoes hurt." She said, kicking them off. "Why are you here with me?"

"Because you asked me to be."

The simple answer touched Elisabet more than she could say. She saw how uncomfortable he was here, dealing with her and her problems. And yet he still stood, staring at her, waiting for what she would say next.

"You don't want me to keep being like this?"

"Your life choices are none of my business."

"No matter what I do, I'll be worse than Clarice."

"No you won't."

"You actually think I'm better?"

"No. I think that you are different."

"Everett seems to like her better."

"And there are people who like you better."

"Do you think she's better?" she asked, suddenly.

"Me?"

"Yes. Is she better."

He hesitated. Javert had no idea how to brace the question. Nevertheless, he started, without emotion. "I do not believe that she would feel what little interest she feels in me if she knew what I have told you."

"You're still going to see her, though. You don't know what will happen."

"I cannot see the future, of course I don't. But I am a good judge of character, I can assume what she will think of me."

"Clarice is just… still though, she is everything you need in a lady-"

"I do not _need_ a lady. I have no time for courting and suitors and that nonsense. If I did, I imagine I would care more about how they feel about me rather than their table manners."

"Javert?"

"Yes?"

"You're my friend."

"So you've said."

"No, I mean it, you are. Nobody else would have stayed here with me. Nobody else would have been so understanding about the way I am. I know you don't agree with me on a lot of things, I don't agree with you either. But you care, and it means a lot." Javert stood, looking at the ground. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No, thank you. You may go if you wish."

"Won't Clarice miss you?"

"I doubt it."

She nodded at him sadly. "I'm sorry for the way she treats you. I hate it."

"Pardon?"

"You know. The way she acts. She's been ignoring you all night. For someone who lectures me daily on good graces, it's awfully rude."

Javert looked hard at his shoes, then looked up and met her eyes, impassive. "I am quite used to it."

"What do you mean?"

"I am not the most highly sought-after guest."

"I don't-"

"They know I came from modest means. They are grateful to me for protecting them, but they will not accept someone born so low into their ranks. They speak to me, they shake my hand, but I would never impose my company on them a moment longer than I have to. I was never very good at these parties."

"So you stand out here?"

"Yes."

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"No."

Javert stood, his back to her and his hands on the balcony rail. Elisabet rose, feeling like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She stood next to him, staring out into the town.

"They shouldn't judge you just for that."

"No matter the uniform, the manners, or the medals, a person cannot change who they are." He said, matter- of-factly. Elisabet realized that the talk came from deeper than she imagined. The simple fact was a release for her, but a prison for him. She vowed at that moment to break him out of that prison, whatever it took.

"You're right. I don't care how many medals you have. You're a good person."

"I must be a good person, that is irrelevant."

"Don't judge yourself based on what they think. If you have at least one person who sees you for who you really are and embraces it, then you don't need anything else."

Javert took a sideways glance at her. She seemed to be talking to herself as much as to him. She was so naïve, so young. He needed only two things in his life: God and his duty. People just complicated things. Society was just a mirror. All of these people, this gala, were just a mirror. Their reactions to him reminded him who he was, what he was. He would never belong anywhere and yet, with this girl, he almost felt like he had some sort of purpose. Asking him to stay and confiding in him, it was still new to him, and a bit frightening. He was careful to not be too close, however. Failing a group of nameless people was far less frightening than failing one person who put everything in him. "Who would that be?" he asked, playing along.

"Me." She answered him simply. He looked at her and their eyes met. She knew so much about him, more than anybody currently alive, he would say. He knew about her, too. More importantly, she did not care. He knew it was dangerous to get so close, he knew it was irresponsible to be outside with her and with someone of a higher social status. But then again, neither of them really belonged anywhere. It was a pitiful sort of bond they had, but it was there and it was strong. Javert resigned himself, for tonight at least, to allow it to continue- after all, it wasn't like they had dance partners to get back to.

She looped her arm around his carefully, crossing it under his and placing it on the balcony again. To her surprise, he did not pull away. They stood there, side by side, not quite sure if they felt better, but at least, they resolved in their heads, at least they did not feel alone.

Javert raised his head and looked at the billions of eyes of his friends who would never judge him, who knew him better than anyone, staring down at him.

"The stars are beautiful tonight."


	14. Chapter 13

In the days after the gala, Elisabet made it clear to her cousin that she did not want to continue their lessons.

"I suppose I understand, dear… after all, some people have it and, well, some people never can." She smiled a pitying smile at her.

Nobody noticed that she and Javert were gone together except Everett, who had been questioning Elisabet ever since. Were you together for long? Did he ask you to meet him there? What did you talk about? Did he touch you? Did he try and kiss you? Each time she would answer with an exasperated "no", but nevertheless he continued.

Between Everett's constant pestering, her father's eye, and Clarice's visit, she had not seen Javert since that night on the balcony- but sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she still felt her arm against his and saw the stars glittering down at them. The fact that he still cared about her despite being with Clarice made her happier than she thought it would: at least there was one person who did not feel the need to compare them. And he told her that he did not want her to change. He did care about her, and she in return felt a fierce loyalty and affection towards him. Javert had done so much for her, and the stories that others would condemn him for only served to strengthen her resolve to show him that the law was not his only salvation, that he could be a good person without persecuting others, that his background meant nothing.

That he did not have to be lonely.

In contrast, she had been seeing Everett quite a lot over the past week. He constantly paid her visits, yet what bothered her was the fact that every time he came to bring her flowers, he gave a few to Clarice. "To be polite", he said. Clarice had only seen Javert once, and incessantly spoke of how enamored he seemed in her afterwards. Elisabet would remember the stars and what he said to her, but the words still stung ever so slightly. She knew that Clarice was wrong, yet a tiny part of her mind could not help but feel jealousy and doubt over Clarice's words. "He might have just been trying to make you feel better" the voice said, "he was just being nice."

No. She knew him. She knew he was honest. Besides, even if he did suddenly fall in love with her, who cares? At least then he would be happy. And then at least Clarice would stay away from Everett.

With a jolt she suddenly remembered that she was going to see Everett in twenty minutes. She started when she saw the time and ran to her room to make sure she looked alright. She was in one of her plain, more comfortable dresses and had her hair simply down. Elisabet looked herself up and down in the mirror.

She wasn't _that_ bad looking. Her nose was a little big and her cheeks were a little round, but she didn't think she was awful- though nothing compared to Clarice.

She heard the door open downstairs- Clarice returning from her day with Javert. She heard her cousin's voice, merrily chatting away with someone. Had Javert made a change? Did they strike upon something that they both shared, and did it open new doors for them? She carefully walked down stairs to see what was going on.

It was Everett with her.

"Hello." She said blankly, not knowing what to make of the situation.

"Oh, hello cousin, I brought something for you!" she gestured to Everett and he laughed, his eyes shining.

"What of Inspector Javert?"

"Oh, well he was walking me through the market for the third time and I noticed Everett walking, he told me he was on his way to see you! I told the Inspector that I think it was time I went home and Everett offered to escort me."

"Don't you think that was a little rude to the Inspector?"

"Well, he did not seem offended at all. He never really seems anything."

"Maybe _he _was trying to be polite." Elisabet said sharply, with a twinge of annoyance.

Clarice ignored this and went on, "Well, I have letters to write, I'll leave you two alone."

"Mademoiselle would not like to stay?" Everett asked her.

"I must attend to things at the moment. Thank you for walking me home!" She smiled and went upstairs.

Elisabet looked at him as he watched her leave and decided that she had had enough. Was he enamored by her, or simply being polite as he said? Were they merely friends like she and Javert were? She knew he thought her beautiful, of course. Even Javert thought she was beautiful. But she was nobody's second choice.

"Lily." He greeted, kissing her hand. "Where would you like to go?"

"Can we take a walk? I just want to talk." She answered, distracted.

He gave her a confused glance. "Of- of course. Shall we?" He offered his arm and they went out the door.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Elisabet took a deep breath and decided to say what was on her mind. "How do you feel about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how do you feel about me? What is all of this? Seeing me all the time, bringing me flowers… what are we?"

Everett stopped, turning to her. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her sudden rush of doubt. "I like you, you know that. What else could it be?"

"But what do you like about me? What makes me different?"

"Well you're pretty, smart, funny- what's not to like?"

"What makes me different?"

"I don't know… you wear pants?"

"How is that different?"

"I don't know other girls who wear pants."

"That's not an answer!"

"Look," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, "what does it matter? I like you and you like me. We're happy. What else counts?"

Elisabet brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, feeling immature and stupid. She looked at her feet and smiled a small, sheepish smile. "I guess you're right, I'm sorry."

"It's all right." He smiled at her and they resumed walking. "But can I ask why all of this came about?"

"Oh, it's silly. It's just with Clarice coming and all and you two getting along… I just thought that, well, I thought it seemed like you were interested in her."

Silence. "Oh." Was all he said. Elisabet's stomach fell and she stopped again, this time standing in front of him.

"What does oh mean?" she asked.

"I- I don't necessarily dislike her-"

"-Oh. My. God." She turned away in anger.

"It's not my fault! She likes me too, I think-"

"-so that means that you can fancy her?!"

"I fancied you first! But then she came and she's just so…"

"Perfect." Elisabet finished bitterly. She had suspected it, a truth that she could not bring herself to face. And here it was. Clarice had won.

"No, I just… I couldn't help it! It happens!"

"Especially with her."

* * *

The sound of raised voices made the horse's ears prick upwards. Javert was on his way back to the jail from his patrol, yet as he rode down the street the argument sounded louder and louder. He turned the corner to see the trouble. The law never rests, he thought proudly. The clock may strike six but the patrol never ends so long as evil lurks around every street.

He seemed to recognize the voices as he got closer. Silently, Javert stepped off of his horse and began walking forward.

"Well what about you?! You were out with Javert the entire night-"

"While _you _were dancing with Clarice! She ignored him the whole night!"

Javert halted just before he turned the corner. He definitely knew who it was now. He listened intently.

"You saw him a lot before that, too! You're yelling about me for how I feel, but how about you? What do you feel for _him_?"

"Nothing!"

"I've heard you call him handsome-"

"-and he is! But I don't care, not when compared to you! He is my friend, nothing more. But I actually fancy you, a lot!"

Javert peeked around the corner to get visual proof- and, indeed, at that moment, he saw Martin put his arms around her and lock her in a tight embrace, locking his lips with hers. She seemed to be returning it, with her hands on his back. There was no fighting going on here anymore.

He turned slowly and walked back to the stallion, feeling slightly light headed. Javert thought that he must be coming down with a sickness as he fumbled with the reins of his horse. He had to ride carefully, because all he could seem to see ahead was Lilybet, being held and kissed by Martin.

"Not when compared to you"

"Nothing more"

His lips formed a tight little smile when he thought of the conversation they had on the balcony, of her conviction on the subject of Martin and her cousin. At least she now saw he was wrong about him. At least she was happy.

And yet Javert could not bring himself to feel anything.

"It seems that he likes you better after all, Mademoiselle" he said to himself sardonically. What was this feeling? What did he expect? Of course she would remain with him; he was handsomer, taller, younger, and happier than Javert. Not that he felt anything else for her, of course, but it was just more proof that words were just wind. People could promise to be there for him, to care for him: his mother made those exact same vows. In the end, life would have been better without them in the first place. He was alone, and always would be. He was a faithful servant of the law, the master that had reached his all-powerful hand down and lifted him from the dirt and raised him to where he was now- and the law demanded that he stay alone and alert. Deep inside he knew it was better that way.

* * *

Elisabet did not know what was happening until she felt Everett's lips on hers, his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes in surprise and stood still. Her very first kiss and it felt nothing like she thought it would. She expected to be swept off her feet, to feel her head skyrocket to the clouds.

This felt like she was being crushed against him, like he was trying to prove something. It felt a little forced.

She put her hands on his back and managed to pull him off after a time. He looked into her eyes earnestly.

"Now do you believe me?"

"Believe what?" she asked, dazed by the quick embrace.

"That I have feelings for you."

Elisabet never felt more grounded than she did now. She smiled sadly, putting her hand on his cheek. "I don't doubt that. It's how you feel about Clarice."

He hesitated, his face apologetic. "I… I told you, I…"

"You can't have both."

"I know that, she's leaving soon, isn't she?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, when she's gone I'll have just you, so there won't be a choice-"

"-I don't want to be anybody's second choice." She shook her head, looking down.

"You're not my- where are you going?" Everett called to her when she started walking away.

She turned back slowly. "I just need to think about things right now. Go see Clarice or something, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you." She continued walking away. He did not go after her.

Elisabet could not tell how long she had been walking around for, only that her legs carried her without the use of her brain. She had no idea what to feel anymore. Obviously Everett didn't either. She couldn't say she was surprised- it was just that she thought it would be Javert who ended up with Clarice, not Everett. That is, until the night of the gala.

The strangest part was that she did not find herself to be angry. The feeling of his lips still lingered on hers, the determination and force that she felt should not come with a kiss. He kissed her to appease her, not because he felt it was right. He did not want to sweep her off of her feet. When she thought of the night on the balcony, she remembered Javert talking to her, telling her she was unique and that she should not change. All Everett did was compare her to Clarice from the minute he laid eyes on her. He preferred her ladylike, she could tell.

She wished…. What was it she wished? That it _had _been Javert with Clarice instead? The thought brought a blow to her stomach. The thought of the two of them together, of him sharing his secrets with her, of her touching his scars with compassion and love. She wondered if he would tell her that she knew nothing of the world as well. She wondered if he would let her hold him, and believe her if she said that he could trust her.

Of course, she knew Clarice. She knew that would not happen. The relief confused her. Everett with Clarice made her head spin as well, but the thought of their intimacy was easier to comprehend.

Perhaps it was because they were so similar in the first place. Elisabet was not like them. On the other hand, she was not like Javert either. So why did she care more about him? Everett was supposed to be her Prince Charming, Javert was her friend and confidante. She wanted him to be happy, she wanted him to figure out that his life meant more than he knew, that he was a better person than he thought. She felt awful. She did care about Everett. He made her happy. He was simple, kind, and charming. It wasn't a lie when she said she liked him. Being so close to Javert was, in a sense, as he suspected.

It occurred to her that Everett technically did not even know her name.

Alone, cold, and more confused than ever, Elisabet made for the only place she felt things made sense.

* * *

The fireplace generated the only light in the otherwise cold, stone room. Javert sat at his mahogany desk filling out authorization papers. There were to be three men executed in eight days in Montreuil-sur-Mer- a murderer, a plotter, and a thief. One of the jobs of Javert's post was to review the mens' records: arrest reports, prison behaviors, trial studies, and give the final signature to seal their fate. Of course, Javert always signed his name in the end. If the courts of justice decided that a man's sin was so great as to pay with his life, then far be it from him to argue with the shrine of law and order. Nevertheless, he got a sense of righteousness from reading the reports. Clearly, these were bad men. They made their choices in life, and now they would have to pay.

"Monsieur Inspector, someone wishes to speak with you." One of his assistants, a scrawny boy who Javert was charged with training before he reached the full position of officer, appeared on his side of the door.

"What is their business?" Javert asked, disinterested, without looking up. The jails were looking particularly full- it was most likely some relation coming to beg for a condemned man's freedom. Javert always hated dealing with those.

"She says she has a problem."

She?

"Who is it?"

"A Mademoiselle Barbier, sir."

Javert looked up, hesitant. What happened? Did something happen to her between when he saw her and now? Did something happen? He hoped the sudden concern did not show on his face as he instructed the boy to send her in.

She walked through the door, looking meeker than he had ever seen her. Her face looked dazed and slightly troubled, her blue-gray eyes filled with doubt.

"What is the issue, Mademoiselle?" he asked, not getting up from his desk.

She began softly. "Just, I needed to just, I wanted to speak with you, Inspector Javert." He nodded at the boy to exit. When the door was shut, he raised his eyebrows at her to go on. She stared at him, uncomfortable. "What are you doing right now?" she asked.

"Work."

"What kind of work?"

"Execution signatures." She winced at him, but for once, said nothing to protest.

_Nothing more._

"If you have need of my assistance, I must ask you to speak promptly. Otherwise, I must ask you to-"

"-Can I stay here? Only for a little while?" Javert merely stared, unsure what to make of this attitude. She never seemed to be the same, it frustrated him. One day she will be a lady, the next a nuisance, then a mouse. She continued, "I promise I won't bother you, I'll sit quietly, maybe I'll read a book."

"Will Officer Martin not wonder where you've gone?" he asked, not thinking about what he was saying. He bit his lip and bent lower over the papers. When he raised his eyes slightly, he seemed to know her reason for being here.

"I really don't think it will matter to him." Her eyes were sad, her shoulders slumped- whether in defeat or confusion, he could not say.

"So naturally when he cannot be there for your assistance, you see it fit to disturb my work." He regretted the twinge of annoyance in his voice when he saw her face. Her mouth was slightly open, her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and her eyes reflecting a guilt that said she had already thought about that. He began, "I did not mean-"

"-No, no, you're right, I'm sorry." She shook her head at the ground. "It isn't fair to you, I know it seems like… like you're my second choice." She swallowed hard, the guilt permeating all of her features. "I'm no hypocrite. I just didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry, I'll go home now." She turned and began walking out, then stopped and turned around, pulling something out of her little bag. "I got you a lemon tart on my way here." She placed the little cake on his desk and started leaving again.

Javert rolled his eyes at himself. This little girl was a nuisance indeed, even when she did not mean to be one. He was cold, ruthless, and impassive, and yet for a sad Lilybet his conscience took over and spoke up for him. "You promise that you will not make a single noise?"

She turned around, surprised. Looking closer, Javert saw tears brimming around the rims of her eyes. She shook her head at him.

"You will sit quietly, allowing me to do my work?"

She nodded.

"Fine," he sighed, "Take that chair and put it next to the book shelf." He indicated the wooden chair opposite his desk.

"Thank you." She said, gratefully. She set her things down and tried to lift the chair- when it did not work, she started dragging it across the floor. Besides making the awful scraping noise, she began moving the carpet and desk along with it.

"Stop it before you ruin my office" he said impatiently, getting up. He picked up the chair with one arm, fixing the carpet with his foot and moving the desk with the other hand. With ease, he carried it along with her bag over to the corner where the fireplace met the bookshelf. She would be fine there. Once he set everything down, he pointed to the chair and she complied, walking over to it. He stood over her and looked down.

_Not when compared to you_

"There is something troubling you." He stated, looking at her. What could have possibly happened between then and now? Javert looked at her and saw her locked in her kiss with Martin. He felt a surge of anger. What had the boy done to impose her on him now? She did not need Javert then.

She leaned her forehead against the front of his shoulder; she was not tall enough for her head to reach onto it. He sighed again, putting his hand awkwardly and briefly on her back. Whatever else, she needed him now.

He would not pry. Her problems were her own business, if she wanted to share them with him at some point that was her decision. He turned around and walked back to his desk, taking a seat and resuming his paperwork. For a while, the only sounds had been the cracking of the fire and the soft rustle of paper. Despite himself, Javert kept looking up at her from time to time. She skimmed through his books: record books, history books, anthologies- he had a wide range in his collection, he was proud to say. Nevertheless, he looked at her face, full of doubt and concentration, and could not stop thinking about what she said. He was nothing compared to Martin, to her at least, yet Martin seemed to be the cause and Javert was her solution. Martin was the young, adventurous chance and Javert was her safe fallback.

But she told him how much she valued him; she told him so much about herself, things she had not told Martin. He should have told her he was busy, that he had no time for these sorts of trifles. Then he would look at her sitting in the corner, and could not bring himself to anger.

Still, how long would it be before she made up with her officer fancy, before she was back to kissing him on street corners? How long before she told him everything about herself?

Javert shook himself out of it. This was not his childhood, when he was weak and dependent. His mother depended on him too, but he let her down. He let her die. It was dangerous to allow someone to get too dependent; sooner or later, he would disappoint them. Who cared if she went back to Martin? She would at least be out of his hair.

_Nothing more_.

He pulled his eyes back on his own work, and signed the first signature. The first fate sealed, bringing society one step closer to safety.

An hour must have passed before she spoke up again.

"Javert?"

"What?"

"What time will you go home?"

He looked up at the clock before back down to the files. "In three or so hours."

"Can I go with you?"

"No."

"Will you walk me then?"

"Fine."

"Can I ride your horse?"

"You are doing a large amount of speaking for someone who has promised silence."

"Right. Sorry."

The remaining time passed with no more words. When the last signature was finalized, Javert straightened his office for the morning. It was important to start each day off correctly- the preparation for which, he believed, started the night before.

"Are you ready-" Javert stopped talking when he noticed her curled up in the hard chair, sound asleep. At least she had been silent, he thought. That couldn't possibly be comfortable. "Mademoiselle? Lilybet?" he called softly. When no response happened, he put a hand on her shoulder. Before he could shake her awake, her head rolled and her cheek rested on his hand. Unsure of how to move or what to do from there, Javert stood nervously for a few seconds before deciding that it would be easier and quicker to just carry her. Slipping his hand out, Javert went to fetch his hat and coat. He put both arms under her and scooped her up like a babe. She was not heavy, that was good. Her head leaned against his chest and remembered the last time he carried her like this- she had been frozen and near dying at the time. Feeling her warmth brought a sort of relief from that memory.

Thankfully, it was late and the town was mostly asleep, so nobody was there to see them. Worry gripped him as he walked, clutching her. Martin was her fun, young, fancy, but she needed Javert. It was far too late to abandon that. She needed him; they found company in their shared isolation. There were occasions where he would admit to have needed her, too. For now, at least, this was one more burden on his life. He prayed that there would not come a time when she collided with his duty, when he must choose. He knew what the answer would be, and he did not know what it would do to him to disappoint one more person who had the misfortune to depend on him. Perhaps one day she would find someone who she could fully depend on. Someone young and handsome and full of life who could give her her happily ever after. Someone who could shelter her from the cruelties of life that Javert had experienced. Then he would be free to be alone again.

When they reached her home, he silently reached into her purse for the key. He unlocked the door and slipped inside. Luckily, there was a candle on the table for light. Not wishing to go up the stairs, he left her on the couch as gently as possible. She might be cold, he got as an afterthought. There was no blanket around. Javert sighed and took his coat off, lightly placing it on her so that it covered her whole body from the neck down. She was smaller than he was, so it covered her almost as well as a blanket would have. He stood above her, looking at her peaceful frame. He envied her trouble-less sleep- he could not remember the last time he himself had slept without waking up with a start in the middle of the night.

"You have caused me much trouble, Mademoiselle" he murmured, echoing himself from the past. A stray lock of hair fell across her face and onto her nose, making it twitch slightly. She looked as if it was tickling her, and she would erupt in a sneeze at any moment. Javert smiled lightly and brushed it from her face, then immediately wiping his hand on his handkerchief as if the touch was forbidden.

Javert blew out the candle and started out into the night.


	15. Chapter 14

"Oh you _naughty_ girl, did you go and steal Everett's jacket?"

Elisabet opened her eyes to see another pair, just inches away from her face. She jumped in surprise, "WHAT are you doing Clarice?!" The sudden movement sent a surge of pain through her head as she tried to recollect her thoughts. Everett. He had feelings for Clarice. She went to go see Javert. She sat in his office. She fell asleep. So what was she doing back in her sitting room? Did Javert take her home?

"What was _I _doing? I should ask what _you _were doing! Uncle left a little before dawn for a trip to Bordeaux, and here I come down the stairs to find you all snug and wrapped in an officer's coat!"

Elisabet looked at her, confused. "You didn't see Everett yesterday?"

"Not since he left with you, why? Thought I'd catch a glimpse of you bringing him into the house last night?" Clarice smiled a wicked smile. "You know, dear, you may not have interest in functioning in your class of society, but you at least must behave with modesty. It's what separates us from the dirt on the docks, after all."

"You have no idea _how _I behave! And it's not your place to tell me! I won't have you making assumptions about my life-"

"-calm down, child-"

"-_you're only four years older than me_."

"Cousin, I must ask you to change your tone. May I remind you that I am a guest in your house?" Clarice looked at her sternly. "And if anything, I could always tell your father that you were rude to me when he returns."

Elisabet's pride tasted like bile as she swallowed it back down. "I apologize, Clarice."

Clarice gave a satisfied smirk. "I'll forgive you. Everyone has their little tantrums. Now, what happened? How did you get his coat?"

"Oh, I… he walked me home and… and he… I was cold so he gave me the coat and I s-suppose I forgot… forgot to return it. I was so tired, I fell asleep on the couch."

"You're lying." Elisabet's heart sank a little at her cousin's declaration. "He came in. I thought I heard a male voice while I was falling asleep. I bet you wanted him to give you his coat as well! It's charming in a bohemian sort of way."

All Elisabet could do was smile sheepishly at her cousin while relief flooded her. If Clarice had found out she had left Everett and gone to Javert, she could only imagine what would have gone on.

Clarice, smiling at her brilliant detective work, went on. "Still, it was so gentlemanly of him to give you his coat. He's quite enchanting. I'm going to market today, I may as well bring the coat back to him to save you the trouble. Here, give it to-"

"-No!" Elisabet held it close to her in alarm. When she was met with a perplexed look, she continued, "I j-just want to give it back to him myself. You know, it would only be polite."

"Alright, if you think that is best." Clarice shrugged and got up. Was it her imagination, or did Clarice look a bit disappointed when she denied her the excuse to see him and give the coat back? "I am making eggs, I will tell you when they're ready. Do something about that dress, dear; it looks all wrinkled and worn." Elisabet watched her go. She then looked down at the navy blue coat in her lap, fingering the gold buttons. Suddenly, a strange urge seized her and she hugged the coat. It smelled musky, cottony… it was most definitely Javert's. Why, though? Why had he left it? She liked to think that he carried her back and left the coat in case she got cold- but he probably wouldn't leave his coat for such a trivial reason. Elisabet got a pang of worry. What if he was cold walking back to his house? She decided that she would go bring it back as soon as possible.

Afternoon came suddenly. Clarice left almost an hour ago, and Elisabet herself had put on her wool coat and was about to head outside. She opened the door.

Everett stood in the archway, his hand poised for a knock.

"Hi." She said blankly, blinking in surprise. "Clarice isn't home."

"I came to see you." He looked at her earnestly. "About yesterday, I-"

"-Come in, come in." Elisabet opened the door further, hiding the coat behind her back.

"Right, thank you. Anyway, I was saying, I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday. I'm sorry."

"I am too, I never should have left you so abruptly. I was upset, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I never meant for you to find out how I felt-"

"-so you still feel that way about her?"

He stared at her nervously. "Y-yes. But I feel that way about you too, a lot."

Elisabet shook her head sadly, finally making her decision. "I don't think we should be seeing each other anymore."

"What? Why not?"

"Because if you really had feelings for me then you never would have gotten any for Clarice. You'll be happier, I know you will."

"What about when she leaves?"

"You'll probably find someone who'll make you happier. Or maybe you could keep in contact with her."

"What will happen with you?"

She thought for a moment. Somehow, she felt okay. She ran her hands on the coat behind her back for support. "I still have time. I'll find the right person if they come along."

He looked at her with a hint of suspicion. "And Javert- you meant what you said yesterday? You don't feel anything for him?"

Elisabet paused for a while, running her finger over a button, envisioning Javert carrying her through the night, not to save her life this time, but simply because he did not want to wake her. She imagined him draping the coat lightly over her.

"I- no. I don't."

"I'm home!" a melodic voice rang as the door opened again.

Clarice stopped and her eyes widened at the sight of the two of them, standing close and speaking to one another. "Oh dear, I hope I'm not interrupting anything-"

"Oh, no, I was just leaving." Elisabet turned from Everett and started towards the open door.

"Won't you be giving Monsieur Everett back his coat?"

Elisabet looked, the coat still folded in her hands, now in front of her.

"What is that?" Everett asked, his voice now full of suspicion.

Elisabet's face turned red. "Nothing!"

"Is that Javert's?!"

"Goodbye!" she was out the door before either of them said another word. She walked briskly until she reached the edge of the street and realized that she had no idea where she was going to go. She thought for a moment before she decided on the jail.

As Elisabet walked, she thought about Everett and Clarice. How he must be telling her the whole story right now, and she must be reacting with delight by all of the gossip. Clarice would be affectionate to him, no doubt, for being 'left' by Elisabet. She would be trying to comfort him, and their own feelings would become clear. Strangely enough, this did not sting nearly as much as she thought it would. Everett would be happy with Clarice, and she did not need someone who she would always be second fiddle with. Clarice was the prettier, more refined one. She and Everett both knew it. Besides, he couldn't have cared about her that much if he couldn't even be bothered to remember that her name wasn't Lily. Sure, he was sweet and handsome- very handsome, she thought, despite herself- but nothing much more than that. She couldn't talk to him about books or muse about life, he was far too simple for that. He wouldn't be interested in hearing about her personal life, and she did not feel comfortable telling him. She could not bring herself to trust him. Even if she did, he wouldn't sympathize. He grew up the son of a ship commander, so his family had always been well-off. He had a mother, father, two sisters, and a brother. He wouldn't understand her petty problems.

Javert did, she thought suddenly. Javert understood and comforted her. He trusted her, or as much as he could, anyway. They had told each other deep secrets, their guilt and their fears. She felt comfortable with him. Yet she still felt bad about last night- he definitely thought she was using him as a fallback from her fight with Everett and it must have offended him. The truth was that he wasn't her fallback. He was her safety net. If she had a problem, he was the first person she thought of to help (on the rare occasions she wasn't stubborn enough to refuse help) because she knew she would do just the same for him. He had needed her before and she had helped. She wanted to help him with more, to be trusted and for him to see that he wasn't alone. Elisabet wanted Javert to see her exactly the way she saw him- a friend, someone who he could tell anything to and it would just make her closer to him, a person who would help with anything. She thought of the pale green eyes, of how his mouth would tremble as he told her about his dark childhood and his lasting fears. She thought of herself holding him as he allowed his emotions to take over. She thought of telling him about her fears and doubts and of her mother and brother, of how her father treated her like a demon afterwards, and holding each other in consolation. She thought of the muscular chest she saw the night in the church. The scene she imagined between him and Clarice played in her head once more, only this time it was her in her cousin's place…

No! No, no, no. She chastised herself firmly, feeling her face grown warm with blush. He was Javert. He was Inspector Javert. She could not feel that was about him. She doubted that she even _did _feel that way- it was probably her emotions after ending things with Everett getting the best of her- that was it, she was just lonely again and needed to feel a romantic pull, and Javert was the only other man she was close to. It wasn't an attraction; it was only a rebound emotion. Javert was the strong and silent police officer, many other, more suitable girls probably fancied him. He was only her friend.

But a handsome friend.

"Shut up!" she yelled at herself. A man looked over at her curiously. She blushed once again and resumed her pace. Even if she _did _feel anything- which she didn't- nothing could possibly happen. He was older than her, he wouldn't possibly have feeling for anyone he called 'child'. Didn't he always refer to her as 'the nuisance'? There were better girls out there. If he wasn't infatuated by someone as stunning as Clarice, how could she hope to get his attention? He saw her as an annoying child and always would. But the important thing was, she smiled to herself, he knew the annoying child was his friend.

Elisabet entered the jail slowly at first. The only guard there was heavily dozing off outside of the door. That was alright, she supposed. After all, no criminal would try to escape in broad daylight. She walked down the line of cells, ignoring the calls of the prisoners. When inside of Javert's office, she placed the folded coat on his desk. She was about to walk away when a thought struck her. She took a pen and sheet of paper from the desk and began to write a note.

_Dear Inspector,_

What could come next? She shook her head as the annoying thoughts came back. And so Elisabet stood, according to the clock, for twenty minutes, staring at the blank page. Giving up, she wrote plainly,

_Your coat kept me really warm. Thank you very much._

_Your friend,_

_Lilybet_

Setting the note carefully on the coat, she folded it and wrote "Javert" on top of it. Elisabet shut the door to his office and began down the corridor.

"Hey there, girl, grab that key in there-"

"-pretty little whore, aren't you-"

"-let me the hell out of here!"

One voice caught her attention. "Mademoiselle, please, a moment of your time." It was not coarse and low like the others. It was faint and delicate and refined, as if the man who spoke it was not the same as the poverty-stricken people in the cells with him. She turned around, and indeed- the man wore a green vest and black trousers. He was clean shaven, with dirty brown hair that may have been a dark blonde save for the grime. He did not look like her came from the street.

"Thou would be kind to spare some food, I have not eaten in two days and but six more to live." He said.

"Thou?" She asked stupidly.

"Oh, pardon. It is a habit, I am afraid. A habit of the old days, of the glory days of citizens." Elisabet immediately realized that this man was a revolutionary- a learned one, it seemed, at that. Six more days to live? What did he mean? She did not have time to question him. As soon as she took in his emaciated form, she opened her bag- she always carried bread or an apple or two with her.

Elisabet walked over to the bars and held out the red, shiny apple.

"Closer, I beg, I am chained to the wall. It seems they think that a simple cage is not enough to keep a man locked away." He smiled sadly and Elisabet walked over until she was directly in front of the cell, holding her hand out through the bars as far as she could.

The man barely took the apple before another hand came out of nowhere and seized her around the front of her collar. It was a large, meaty, dirty hand belonging to a bald and slightly toothless man of the same description.

"That bloody copper keeps the key in there, I know it. Get the fuck back in there, girly, and get me out of here or I swear I'll beat you bloody until you do!" he shouted in a hoarse, deep voice. He pulled back and slammed her with all of his force into the bars. She felt her nose explode in pain as it made contact with the dirty iron. Flakes of rust filled her mouth as he pulled back and did it again.

A gloved hand seized her by the shoulders and panic shot through her as she thought wildly that one of the prisoners had gotten out and they would all begin to gang up on her.

Through the tears of pain streaming down her face, Elisabet looked down. The hand was covered in black leather and attached to a crisp, navy blue arm. It pinned her against the wall as the body belonging to it stood facing the cell. Her attacker was backing away in fear as the man in uniform drew a sword and pointed it straight at his neck.

"You are a lucky man to be awaiting death" Javert threatened, "if I hadn't signed your neck to break already, you would be punished until you were wishing I had." He turned to Elisabet with real anger in his eyes. His jaw was clenched and the pale green showed a fury she had never seen.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at her. Somehow, being mad seemed to make him larger, more imposing. It frightened her even more than his cold impassivity did.

Her voice was thick with tears as she tasted the blood from her nose dripping into her mouth. "I- I just c-c-came to-"

"You came to a jail by yourself. Foolish child, do you have any idea what could have happened to you if I did not chance to come back? Do you? What were you thinking? Why were you standing so close to the bars?" The uncharacteristic anger that Javert displayed scared her. She couldn't understand why he was mad at her, she was only returning his coat and giving a man some food. He looked every bit a dangerous man.

He turned his back on her, straightening his shoulders and pointing his baton at the revolutionary, who sat hunched in a corner with the apple. "You there, plotter. Where did you come about that apple?" The man did not hesitate a second before pointing at Elisabet. Javert's voice had recovered most of the cold-bloodedness it usually had, yet still maintained a dangerous edge. "You will both be flogged for your crimes respectively. If I see any other misbehavior I will not hesitate to request less painless executions."

The sleeping guard now emerged, baton raised and half alert. "What is going on here?"

Javert turned on him, once again his chilly air returned. He spoke with cold fury. "Where were you?"

"G-guarding the jail, sir-" he stammered.

"-then how, may I ask, did this girl get in?"

"-she must have snuck past me-"

"-and you did not hear the footsteps or the clanking against the bars?"

"I-I-I…" the man withered under Javert's gaze.

"You will be suspended from duty until further notice. Finish your watch and go." He spoke with an air of finality and the man retreated like a beaten dog. Javert turned his attention on Elisabet, who sat, shivering and blood coming out of her nose.

Javert bent down and gave her his handkerchief. When she did not move to take it, he pushed it, maybe a little too roughly, up against her face.

"Ow!" she squeaked, immediately taking it and holding it to her nose.

"Are you hurt?" was all he managed to say. She stared at him incredulously. "Can you stand?" she thought she detected a hint of gentleness in his voice. Elisabet put her hand against the wall and trembled slightly as she tried to push herself up. Javert put his arm around her waist and raised her to her feet easily. He put his hand under her chin and her heart beat faster as his face got close to hers, examining her for damage.

"Hi." She said softly. He let go and took a step back.

"Hi? Hi?" He looked down at her. "Stupid girl, do you have any idea what could have happened to you? If I had arrived even a minute later-" Javert took a breath. "I do not have time for this now."

He stood, once again impassive. He called to the guard. "Escort Mademoiselle outside." He ordered, turning his heel and walking back to his office. He looked at Lilybet- she held the handkerchief close to her bloody nose and would not even meet his eyes.

Javert slammed the door behind him, closed his eyes, and exhaled as he felt his heart pounding against his chest. In his mind he kept seeing it, he kept seeing the blood on the bar from her nose, he saw her get slammed like a ragdoll against the cell. Idiot! What was she doing? He could not stop himself from imagining what would have happened if he had come later. He pictured her, lying in a heap next to the bars. He pictured blood coming from everywhere, and when he bent down next to her, he would find his hands red. He would lift her by her shoulders, her head lolling sickeningly to the side. Javert would not be strong enough to carry her somewhere safe. And the shadow of a man would be laughing, just laughing at the weak boy he really was.

He opened his eyes quickly. Javert felt himself trembling.

"No," he mumbled to himself, "that is not you anymore. That is over. You are stronger now. You're Inspector Javert, they fear you. The convicts fear you. She is fine. Lilybet is fine." Javert locked the door with one shaky hand. If anybody were to come in and see him like this, he would be compromised. He was Inspector Javert, not the gutter boy. The gutter boy died long ago and the soldier rose from the ashes. Still, however, he had his moments of weakness when the gutters and the darkness would return to him and threaten to eat him alive- but this mostly happened at night. Up until now it had not happened in the daylight in over fifteen years. Why now? Why had the child's foolishness triggered it? Why did she make him release the anger that he had been able to hide so well before?

Because she cares about you, a voice within him said. Because you let her get close, and she is now another responsibility.

Stupid, stupid, Javert thought. Yes, it was nice, even comforting, to have someone who was 'there', but was it worth it? Was it worth the worry and the risk? This is exactly what he was worried about- if he got close to her, then what would happen when he couldn't protect her? Not only would he be failing his duty as an officer, but he would have failed her as well.

But you didn't, the voice said again. Not this time.

There is always a next time, Javert thought grimly. Still, why had she come in the first place? It was then that he noticed the coat, lying neatly folded on his desk. There was a paper with his name on it folded on top.

_Dear Inspector,_

_Your coat kept me really warm. Thank you very much._

_Your friend,_

_Lilybet_

"It was because of me." Javert rubbed the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his temple, being enveloped by guilt. Trust him with a town, and he could keep it clean and safe. Trust him with a person, and it would be their downfall.

Dusk came quickly and Javert had long since calmed himself of the panic attack. Putting on his coat and hat, Javert walked past the cell of the men of death row- the two offenders were still moaning from the flogging their received. "Quiet." He said sharply, banging the baton on the bar.

He bid the guards goodnight and set off. He had not gone twenty feet before stepping on something soft that squeaked when his foot met it. He looked down- it was Lilybet, slumped against the wall. Her nose was pink and swollen, but did not look broken. She had a bruise on her forehead but besides that, all of the bleeding had stopped. She looked up at him with fear- the same fear she held in the jail. Javert knew he scared her when he got angry, she probably assumed he still was.

"What are you doing here?" he asked shortly, looking down.

She spoke with a soft voice. "I didn't want to leave before I got to say sorry."

"For what?"

"For being there when I shouldn't have been."

"And it took you a beating from a con to realize that you should not be in a jail unattended."

"I'm sorry." She said again.

After a moment, he said coolly, "Thank you for my coat."

"Are you mad at me?"

She looked at him with large, imploring eyes. Javert offered her a hand to stand up. He sighed, "No."

"You were mad in the jail."

"I was-" he stopped himself short before he could say 'frightened'. "I was angry at the convicts for committing crimes. I let my emotions take control of me, it was unprofessional and wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are those the men who you gave execution signatures to?"

"Yes."

"And you punished the one for eating the apple?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it was contraband."

"But it's not his fault, I gave it to him."

"He should not have accepted it."

"That isn't fair."

"You are standing before me with a bruised face and telling me that it was good of you to get that close to the bars and give the wretch an apple?"

"The _man_ was hungry." She said simply. Javert looked at her with pursed lips. He had to admit that her idealistic view that this dirt was somehow good was cute sometimes, but at times like this it irritated him. She was too stubborn to admit that she had been wrong about the convict, even though she literally felt the pain of her error. "Thank you." She blurted suddenly. "For saving me again, for always saving me. It seems like every time I'm in trouble, you're there."

Because every time it is my fault, Javert thought miserably. He had regained control of himself so, thankfully, it did not show on his face.

"I have had to suspend three officers so far because of you." He stated, harsher than he had intended.

"Sorry." She returned meekly.

Javert bit his lower lip and inspected her face again. "Are you alright now?" he asked gently, his face inches from hers so that he could see her battered features in the near-darkness.

"I still feel scared." A tremor accompanied her statement.

"I know." He said softly. "You will for a little bit." Javert got the strangest urge to hug her. To hold her and let her face lean against his chest, to wrap his arms around her and hold her from the fear and shelter her from the bad memory. Seeing as that would be incredibly improper and that he never did that before, he kept himself at bay, looking at her gray blue eyes. Her body may not have been trembling anymore, but they still were.

"Can you walk with me home?"

"Fine."

"Did I fall asleep last night?"

"Yes."

"And you carried me home?"

"Yes."

She chuckled, putting her hand on his jacket. "Clarice thought this was Everett's. Then he came over unexpected, and found out it was yours. I ran out."

"Will they not wonder where you are?"

"Father's away again and I broke things off with Everett when he came over. He and Clarice are still probably enjoying each other's company at home. He didn't really fancy me, not compared to her anyway. Why bother making him stay with me? He even said he wanted to stay with me because she was leaving soon, imagine that."

"You should never stay in one's company fully knowing they would rather be somewhere else." Javert did not know what else to say- girls and their courtships were a trial that he was glad to never have experienced, nor could he say he cared much about it. Nevertheless, he could not ask about the kiss. He could not tell her he watched the argument. Maybe she would tell him in due time- clearly it didn't matter now, seeing as she broke it off with him. Good riddance, Javert thought, he did not treat her very well, from what he saw.

"You're right. And the strange thing is, I'm not as upset as I would be. Over Everett, I mean. Probably because I saw it coming- I should have known, I'm nowhere near Clarice-"

"-that isn't true."

She looked at him sharply, "What do you mean? You've seen her."

"Yes, but… I said already, comparing yourself to someone else is useless and it will always make you miserable. Everyone is different; comparing you to her is like a horse to a dog." Strange talk coming from someone who measures themselves against every other officer he meets, a voice inside of him accused.

"So I'm a dog."

"That is not what I meant." Javert was not made to handle women. They had reached her door. She turned to face him.

"Were you really not angry when you saw me?"

Javert inhaled. "I was" he confessed, his face a mask against emotion.

"At me?"

"At myself."

"You did nothing!"

"I let you get into that position. You would not have been anywhere near there if I hadn't-"

"-cared about me." Lilybet finished the sentence, looking up at him earnestly. Javert was speechless at this point. He cared and she paid the price- but why was she treating it as if it were a good thing? She continued, "You gave me your coat and I brought it back, I gave a man an apple and another, well, you know. It wasn't your fault. I'm just grateful you were there to save me-"

"-you are hurt-"

"-but not as badly as I could have been. That's because of you. You were there."

Javert just swallowed. He was being forgiven for something he considered punishable- the last time this had happened, he remembered with a jolt, was when he 'mistook' the mayor for Valjean. If he was right about that all along, who's to say that he's not right about this?

She's to say, the voice said.

It would be another sleepless night, he assumed with some dread. Days with panic attacks always led to the worst nightmares. Javert stood tall and bowed before her.

"Thank you." He said despite his skepticism.

"Stop. Thank _you_. I owe you again."

"Take care of yourself. Goodnight, Mademoiselle."

"Be safe. Goodnight." Lilybet grasped his hand briefly and let go, a smile lighting up her features. Javert did not see why she thought herself uglier than her cousin, even with the bruises. He turned around when she entered her house and began walking away, the demons of his past mocking him in his near-failure.

**_Author's Note: I know he seems a bit more dark and broody in this, but Javert is basically the definition of a loveless childhood so it's to be expected. I tried keeping in character while showing feelings towards each other, but excuse it if it seems a little off because I had no canon Javert love interest to go off of (sadly :'|) so the chapters with how he feels about her and yadda yadda will kind of be author's interpretation crapshoots. I really hope you all like it, thank you so much for the encouraging reviews! :)_**

**_PS: To answer a question, by 'kinship' I meant close similarities and internal bonds formed through experiences or characteristics, not necessarily blood relation. Hope I cleared things up!_**


	16. Chapter 15

Nearly a week passed and Elisabet had to admit that she was going to miss her cousin just a little bit. She was annoying and pretentious, but she was still family after all. Plus, she _did _teach her how to act around people her father associated with- she didn't care for it, but it might come in handy one day.

Her bruise had almost healed- thankfully, she managed to devise a story telling about how she had attempted to learn to ride a horse and it ended badly. People knew how careless she could be about things, so most of the time she got a pitying smile and a shake of the head. Elisabet was also lucky in the fact that no story of her and Javert had gotten out.

She had gotten home that night a week ago, her nose throbbing and hear head full of questions. Clarice was alone, knitting by the fire.

"Well, don't _we_ have much to talk about." She said, putting her needles down.

Elisabet looked to her imploringly. "Please, Clarice, don't tell, please."

"I won't tell only if you tell me what it is you do not want me to tell in the first place. Come, cousin, tell me everything you've been hiding. Also, it would help if you told me why your face looks dreadful."

And so she was forced to tell Clarice the horse lie, and about her friendship with Javert- obviously there were the parts she was forced to exclude, but otherwise she told her all she could- walking her home, saving her from the drunkard in the rain, the man with the apples, taking her to the hospital… "He's… he's my best friend. He means a lot to me" she finished, nodding.

All the while, Clarice had been looking at her with the objective expression of a doctor examining a patient. "Mhm. I see. That explains a lot."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid, darling, I saw how you two act around one another."

"How? What?"

"I thought you were both just extremely awkward at first, but now I see. But _him_? Really?"

"Him what?"

"Out of all of the men to be infatuated with, you pick the thirty seven year old police Inspector? He's so boring… and below your class, besides that. You could have someone handsome, brave-"

"He _is _handsome and brave!" Elisabet paused with her mouth open, turning red. "But I don't feel that way about him. I really don't. He's just my friend, I'm serious."

Clarice nodded a little too smugly for Elisabet's liking. "Alright."

"So you won't tell?"

"I just can't believe I didn't see it before, and what you put poor Everett through… nevertheless, I suppose Uncle doesn't need to find out. I don't know if you know this, but the Inspector is a gypsy born to a criminal. Who he bribed to get such a high position I will never know. I would never allow myself to be with someone like that- you shouldn't either. So you have no romantic feelings for him?"

"No."

"And if I began to be courted by Everett, you would not object? After what you did to him I don't believe that you really ever wanted him."

What I ever did? She might have said. How about you? How about what he did to me? Ignoring me? Flirting with you in front of me?

"I would give you my blessing." Thankfully, Clarice did not catch the sarcasm in her voice. It still stung a little bit, but Elisabet was surprised at the lack of feeling she had towards her former fancy.

"Finally," Clarice began, "you will consent to helping me with what I need. You will assist me with organizing my sheet music, doing errands in the market, and will not give me any of your boorish backtalk for the rest of my stay."

"Yes, yes I consent" Elisabet said gratefully. Easier said than done, she knew, but it was only a week. If her father had found everything out… well, people did know she was familiar with Javert, he had been seen escorting her home a few times, but nobody knew the extent of it. She knew that it would be detrimental to Javert's job if people knew how close he was to the daughter of one of the prominent men in town, and soon her father would forbid her seeing him all together. She hated the secrecy, but she knew that for now at least, it was the only way.

Her fears of Everett telling were put to rest soon as well. Elisabet knew that he did really like Clarice after all; he would never believe that she and Javert were just friends, and telling the other officers that he lost the woman he was trying to court to his solemn and grave boss would be too much for his pride. Besides, something about him and Clarice embracing inside the house told Elisabet that neither would miss her or Javert much.

She heard the sound of hooves and turned towards the carriage that would have her father on it ready to escort Clarice back to Paris. Opening the door and sticking her head in, Elisabet yelled, "Last kisses children, Cendrillon's carriage is here to whisk her away." Before long, the two emerged. Elisabet looked at her feet and hid a small smile as she got a quick glance of Clarice's flushed face.

"You will write to me, will you not?" Clarice turned to Everett, staring up into his eyes.

"Every day if you would like me to." He smiled a tender smile and looked at her with the green eyes that he used to look at Elisabet with. The thought made her suddenly much lonelier- there would be nobody looking at her like that anymore, there would be nobody to say sweet things or compliment her. She shrugged it off; maybe someday she would find someone new to sweep her off her feet, someone to make her heart soar high into the sky when his lips met hers. Maybe someday, she shrugged to herself.

"Tell the Inspector that it was lovely meeting him." Clarice said to her when she and Everett had finally broken their contact. She gave Elisabet a sly little smile- she was still convinced that something was going on between her and Javert, and had managed to slip in quite a few little admonishments about "courting below her class" in the past week. Holding her tongue had been hard, it is true, but it was worth it to preserve her friendship. Javert had not been able to make it today, making Elisabet even lonelier. If he was there, she would at least have someone to talk to. Work, Work, work, that's all he ever did.

After Clarice took her leave, Elisabet was once again left alone in the house. Her father had gone to Paris with her and would be gone for a few days, and Everett had given her an awkward bow and departed soon after.

I think I'll see what my little friends are doing, Elisabet thought. It was a Saturday afternoon- surely they would be playing outside.

She went to the square and found the three boys and little girl playing with their little ball of rags, just as she thought she would.

"Lilybet!" Mona's face lit up when she saw the figure waving at them. She ran over as fast as her little legs could carry and wrapped her arms around Elisabet's waist, smiling. She turned her face up at her and looked at her with innocent, dark eyes. "You were gone for so long!"

She bent down and hugged the little angel tightly. "I know, Cheri, I've missed you all." Enrique and Pierre went over and hugged her as well as Adrien stomped over impatiently.

"Hi, hi, hi, Lilybet is here. Can we p_lease _go back now? I finally got the ball and I don't want to stop the game right when I get to my good part."

Elisabet laughed and got up. "Come on, let's go. I'll sit by the fountain and watch."

"You always do that," Mona complained, "play with us today!"

She kissed the girl on the cheek and lifted her up. "Next time, I promise." Mona giggled and wriggled free, grabbing her brother's hand and joining the rest. "Be careful!" Elisabet warned them, "the streets are busy today!" And so she sat on her old fountain, watching the children throw the ball around wildly. This was where she belonged, on the outside. She was always on the outside of her father's company, and hers as well. No matter what, Elisabet would always be looking into the world through a window- but she had to admit that she preferred this scene to her father's.

As she contemplated the thought, Pierre threw the ball as hard as he could to show off how strong he had gotten. It soared far above Mona's head and landed clear across the square. She threw her little hands up in the air as the boys started walking over to fetch it. "I'm getting it today! I'm big enough!"

"Mona, it's dangerous, let your brother go with you-" before Elisabet could finish, Mona sprinted away from her brother, laughing.

"I have it, I have it!" Elisabet watched her run.

The world stopped turning as she saw, in slow motion, Mona fall to the ground, never seeing the big wooden carriage turning the corner.

* * *

"Hold- release!" Javert's voice boomed over the gallows. He stood on the wooden rampart above, watching the trapdoor open and the floor fall from beneath the first man's feet.

His neck snapped and he instantly went limp- a quick, easy death for the murderer. Javert stared at the lifeless mass and felt a spasm of anger when he remembered the large, meaty hands around Lilybet's collar, pounding her against the bars. If Javert hadn't been there, no doubt he would have killed again. If Javert had come a second too late-

No. That was over and done with. He was on duty now; he was the Inspector of Montreuil-sur-Mer and would not be seen as an emotional beast.

Javert was often the overseer of executions. The other officers were always either too weak stomach or could not stand the sight of them emotionally, whereas Javert… he felt nothing for them. He did not jeer when they came up and cheer when they were hanged like the masses watching did, he did not look away when the rope tightened with the weight of the bodies. He simply knew it had to be done. These were criminals, their souls black and bound to hell- so what was wrong with sending them a few years earlier? Why keep them on God's earth where they would just cause more suffering for the innocents around them? Man had two choices in life: to be with society or against it. As soon as the choice was made, in Javert's opinion, consequences should follow. The only anger he got was when one requested a priest to be with him; it was a waste of breath and a waste of a prayer to read the last rites for those who sold themselves to Lucifer. If it was in his power to deny it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"Hold- release!" Javert wondered if it was worth Lilybet's pain and danger to give the plotter the one apple as his feet did a macabre jig, his body putting up a last, futile fight for survival. He watched with a cold, detached gaze as the revolutionary hung limp.

"Help, somebody, please!"

Javert's head snapped up towards the sound in sudden alertness. He took quick steps and stopped short at the end of the scaffold and dispatched two nearby officers to see what was wrong. It would not do for him to leave, not while this was going on. The crowd, however, thought differently as they left the area of death to look for further excitement.

"Hold- release." He never even glanced at the thief as he went down. Javert's gaze remained where the scream had come from, his body wanting to go towards it and his mind keeping him where he was. On one hand, he was in charge of protecting society, and when someone was in trouble, he had to help. On the other, he was an officer of the law- the law, in this case, dictated that he do the duty he was assigned to for the day, which was execution duty. He averted his eyes and resumed pacing above the dead.

* * *

"Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle what happened? Is this your sister? Mademoiselle-"

The voices all around her blended together. Her hearing, like her eyes, was blurred and she could not distinguish anything but the sleeping doll in her arms. Elisabet looked down at the delicate little face with a smudge on the nose, perfect except for the line of blood running down from her head. She could have been sleeping. Yes, she told herself wildly, yes she's sleeping. She's playing a game. She's pretending. Elisabet had to stop herself from bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Mona, Cheri, wake up, I'm laughing, see? It's a funny game but you have to stop now."

"Back off, back off all of you! She's _my _sister!" Pierre punched his way through the crowd and fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks. He wiped the blood from her head with his sleeve. Elisabet loosened her grip and Pierre hugged Mona as she hung limp in his arms. "Mona don't die, please don't die."

An elderly man made his way into the circle now, putting his veined hand on Pierre's shoulder. "Easy now, lad, I'm a doctor." Pierre laid Mona gently on the ground and the wizened man felt her wrist, her neck and her heart before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, son. She's gone."

"Where are your parents, boy?" Elisabet looked up and saw two men in uniform behind her.

"We have none" he replied defensively, "we live under the bridge."

"Then get you gone."

"But my sister!"

"There's nothing anyone can do, you're causing a stir here."

"No!" Elisabet shrieked and hugged Mona again. She was getting cold. Maybe if she hugged her tighter, she would get warm and open her eyes again. "Mona, wake up and show them you're pretending, wake up-"

The navy blue figures took her by the arms and tried to lift her up.

"Let go!" she elbowed one and fell back down on her knees hard. She felt no pain; she watched the angel sleep, praying for a rise of the chest or a flutter of the eyelashes. Why Mona? She had never done anything wrong, she had a place in her heart for every living thing down to the smallest ant. She just wanted to show what a big girl she was. Elisabet cried harder as the guilt burned her like fire.

_It should have been you_, a voice hissed in her ear. It was thin, evil… it was inhuman. _It should have been the selfish child who did not move when she saw the cart coming._

"Look at how she's dressed, she's not one of them-"

"Why is she here?"

"Why does she care about an urchin?"

"-the carpenter's daughter-"

"-shouldn't be here."

"You must get up, Mademoiselle." A voice, a normal voice. "Take the child off of the street and go, boy."

Not a single person moved to help when a sobbing Pierre tried to lift his sister. Suddenly, the twins appeared out of the crowd and stared in sadness and shock.

"Let's take her under the bridge" Adrien said quietly, and the two blondes helped the weeping brother lift his sister up. Their hazel eyes swept the crowd and looked up at the hysterical girl being half held by the officers. They looked at her with accusation. With betrayal.

"No, let me go, it's my fault, it's my fault!" She cried, echoing the thoughts of her little friends. "I must help them, no, Mona-" The officers tried to lift her to her feet and half carried, half dragged her out of the crowd and away.

"Where do we take her?" one asked, as if he did not hear her.

"I have no idea… perhaps to the hospital? If she's Barbier's daughter then we can't just leave her."

"Let's go leave her in her father's shop, he'll take care of her."

* * *

Javert watched the men turn milky white as the blood slowly ran down to their feet and hands. The murderer was a drunk, he wagered, for his nose remained red the longest. With his large, bald head, red nose, and blue tongue, he looked like some grotesque jester.

He perked his ears when the sound of screaming got louder. Did he recognize that voice? No, it couldn't be, it wouldn't be. No. No no no.

What were his officers doing? Was the trouble coming here? Three figures emerged at some distance from the street leading to the square- his men were dragging someone between them, someone making the cries.

Javert's heart skipped a beat when he realized he was right about the voice. He took a glance down at the bodies, swaying lightly as the ropes creaked. The dead weren't going anywhere.

"Let me go, let me go, I have to go back to her, it's my fault, my fault-"

"Inspector." The officers saw him approach and tried to straighten while holding her. He nodded to them and they resumed their attempt at control. He looked at Lilybet. Her face was bright red and wet with tears. Some of her hair had fallen onto her face and she was thrashing and screaming like a wild animal. She did not even seem to notice that he was there. He stared, calm but wide eyed, watching her.

"What happened?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

"Sir, a cart was turning a corner and a little urchin girl fell beneath its wheels. This is Monsieur Barbier's daughter-"

"-I know."

"Yes, and when we arrived she was crying over the child. Some other urchins came to take her away and she held on to her and cried, she would not let us take here away so we had to drag her. I do not know why she is so upset."

Javert knew. She often spoke to him of her 'little friends'. "Where were you planning on taking her?"

"We were not sure, Inspector. What are your orders?"

"Go see that the scene is cleaned up and that the crowd is controlled and dispersed. See that nobody is hurt. I will see that the girl gets home." They released her and she stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden freedom. When she turned around and tried to run back, Javert caught her by the shoulders.

She beat her fists against his chest and continued screaming. "Unhand me! Put me down I have to go back, Mona, Mona-"

"Sh sh sh, quiet, it's alright." He held her tighter as she tried to break free and spoke softly and calmly. Javert had experience with calming down hysterics- he had dealt with upset witnesses, raging criminals, and relations of those criminals who could not handle a loved one being arrested. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes and sighed, giving a silent thank you to the Lord that she was not harmed. She continued to struggle and try to hit him, but Javert, being both larger and stronger, managed to restrain her.

He held her at arm's length, trying to meet her eyes. He spoke in the same soft voice. "Let me take you home. Shhh, you are safe, I am Javert, you know who I am, I will not hurt you."

Lilybet let out a cry that made Javert shudder and collapsed onto him. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling and she buried her head in his chest, her hits getting weaker and weaker until she just grabbed at his coat.

"It's all my fault, this is all my fault-"

"-it is not." He said firmly.

"I saw the cart, I just stood there, I should have said- should have moved- I have to go back, let me go I have to go back."

"And do what?"

She stopped screaming and looked up at him as if she had just noticed he was there. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked at him the same way she did when she told him about her mother and brother: the same look of all consuming guilt and sadness that Javert himself wore when he was alone with his demons. Without a word, it seemed as if all her strength was sapped out of her at once and she swooned, nearly falling to the ground. Her eyes fluttered and Javert put her arm around his neck and his around her waist and started walking.

She began faintly, "Where-"

"-home." They walked the rest of the way in silence. He did not understand why she was reacting like this to some little wretch irresponsibly running under a cart- what did it matter? If she wanted to befriend one so bad there were probably dozens more just like her living down there. When he was a boy he had seen children his age die nearly every week; whether it was from some sickness, starvation, or accidents, they went down once in a while. Javert had stopped pitying them when he was very young- if they did not die at that age, they almost certainly grew up to be criminals. This girl was probably no different. God had seen her and known she would grow up to present a danger to society, so he gave her to Lucifer early.

Javert knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he turned the knob and opened it to find that the house was empty. "Come now, come sit down" he said, gently putting her down on the couch. He was about to turn around and go when he finally heard her speak.

"I should have died." Elisabet looked up at Javert. All of her fight had left her and her tears had run dry. She felt like a shell, hollow and destitute. He looked at her as if she was crazy- which, after what had just happened, he most likely thought she was.

"You should not say such things."

"But it's _true_. She had no reason to die, you didn't know her. She was an angel. She never hurt anything in her entire life, she loved everyone she met. I should have gone to get the ball, I shouldn't have let her go by herself, I shouldn't have let her run."

"The child was not your responsibility."

Elisabet looked down at her lap, ashamed and guilty. "It's my fault she died, it's all my fault. And then I just left them. They hate me."

Javert stood silently, visibly unsure. After a pause, he merely gave her a bow. "I hope you will soon feel better. Good day-"

"-don't leave me alone." She stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. She knew he was uncomfortable but she could not be alone. She could not be alone with nothing but the vision of the little fallen angel and the sound of creaking wooden wheels. "When is your next patrol?"

"Six" he said, looking doubtfully at the clock.

"Could you stay until then? Please?"

"If I must." He said hesitantly. Javert stood staring at her, not knowing what to say. She sat on her couch with her feet tucked into her chest, staring into nothing. She looked up at him and moved over.

"You can come sit down if you'd like." She winced. Speaking hurt. They again lapsed into silence. She wanted to lean against him and fall asleep; when she woke up, this would have all been some horrible nightmare. Was she really worried about not getting attention from Everett just a few hours ago? How was she this spoiled to worry about stupid, girlish things while children were dying outside every day?

"Are you afraid of dying?" Elisabet asked.

"No" he answered quietly.

"Not at all? You're not afraid of it hurting or what comes after?"

His voice got quieter and she had to strain to hear him. "I… I am worried that there will be no one to mourn me when I'm gone. No one will cry for me."

She looked up at him. His face had a distant, almost ashamed look. Like he was somehow weaker for feeling that way.

"I've never even thought about it."

"It is unimportant-"

"-but I would."

"What?"

"I hope you don't die though. But if you did, I would cry for you. I- no, I don't even want to think about that. Not now." Javert watched as tears rolled down her face again. Even thinking about me is bringing her pain, he thought. He could not be this close to her- if he should fall, even in death he would hurt her. He could not do something without it hurting someone.

"The girl's death is not your fault. If God-"

"-there is no God."

"You can never say such a thing-"

"-unless there is some twisted monster looking down on all of us, throwing dice with the lives of his playthings. She has never been guilty of anything in her life. No shred of darkness. And He took her away."

"There is a reason for everything in life. She did not look before she saw the cart."

"But _I _saw the cart! I saw it but didn't say anything. I saw it hit her. I saw her fall, I held her in my arms but I let them take her away from me. I could have helped her, I should have died instead. I'm evil, I didn't warn her, I'm a bad person."

"You are not a bad person."

"Would a good person have let her run to get her ball?"

"Would a bad person be grieving over an orphaned street urchin? Would a bad person be blaming themselves?"

Would a bad person try so hard to keep me from my own darkness, he almost said.

She said nothing in response, only laid her head against his chest and continued crying. Javert let her continue, his arms still pressed against his sides. He closed his eyes and felt her shaking against him. He had seen people offer comfort in the form of hugs before- would that be appropriate now? Would it calm her? He slowly put his arms up and loosely put them around her. She pressed against him, crying even harder. Javert immediately removed his arms in fear that he was hurting her. Hugs were wrong. That was the wrong thing to do. All he did was make her cry even more that way. Maybe they meant different things at different times?

After nearly half an hour, Lilybet got up. "I'm sorry." She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"It is alright, you are upset." Javert said, his body stiff. He had been afraid to move for the duration of her episode in fear of making something else worse.

"I should go back-"

She began to get up when Javert grabbed her arm. "It would be unwise. They have most likely buried her by now."

"What did you do when your mother died?" Javert sat in silence, looking down at his lap. She continued quickly, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I cried." He said matter-of-factly, detachedly. "I went back to the spot where we slept, wrapped myself in her shawl, cried, and fell asleep. The next morning I went begging for food and coin. My life went on." Why was he telling her this? She was already upset, she didn't need to hear about his own sad childhood.

They sat quietly, both musing over their own lives. "What should I do?"

"Stay home. Realize that it was not your fault. Pray for forgiveness for blasphemous utterances."

He was right, she knew he was right. Already she felt ashamed for her declaration against God's existence- but how could He let this happen? How could he let his purest soul die so suddenly, so young?

It wasn't Him, it was you, a voice said.

"Why didn't I stop it."

"You could not have. You cannot blame yourself for an accident."

"Why couldn't it have been me? I'm not as pure as her; I'm not beautiful or necessary to society- who would really care?"

I would, Javert thought. Somehow he could not bring himself to say it out loud.

"Many more than you know." Was all he said.

"I'm tired."

"Would you like me to leave so that-"

"-no. Please, could you stay until I fall asleep? If you're busy I understand, but… if not, could you?"

Javert nodded curtly. Despite her tears and tragedy, Javert felt a certain warmth within. She wanted him to be there. Whatever else, he was needed. She leaned against him and he was careful to stiffen himself again.

"Is that too uncomfortable?" she asked, getting up.

"No, this was the position I was in when you were crying, I assumed it was most comfortable."

She tightened her lips into what looked like a brief attempt at a smile. "That's very thoughtful of you. Sit however you want." Javert relaxed and leaned against the back of the couch and she laid down on him again. She spoke up again, "Javert, could I ask you something a little embarrassing?"

"What is it?"

"Could you maybe hug me?"

"That will not harm you?"

"No, it would feel nice." Javert raised his arms around her again, hanging them loosely around her; this time, however, she leaned against him and relaxed a deep breath. He would never admit it, but this was the first time anyone really wanted him to hug them. He had never held anyone in his arms before, no one had sought his comfort. It was strange, he felt as if he were holding a small glass frame. As if one wrong move would shatter her. It was a frightening feeling of responsibility, and yet it was also fresh and new.

He soon felt her relax until she was breathing deeply, calmly. He looked at the clock- it was nearly six. He got up and looked at her.

"Out of all the people to trust, why do you fall on me?" he asked softly. She needed someone compassionate, understanding, kind… no one had ever put this kind of a trust in him, and Javert was afraid that he would hurt one or both of them under the weight of it. And yet he could not bring himself to put it aside. He wondered what it would be like to put the same faith in someone that she put in him.

With a start, he realized he already had.

Javert put one finger gently on her cheek to wipe the tear. That, at least, he knew was right. He opened the door and a gust of wind burst through. Back to his world, back to the safe haven of the law. The Inspector put on his hat and began making his way to the police stables to get his horse. Her voice resonated in his mind.

_I would cry for you._

* * *

Elisabet woke up in darkness. She still had a smile on her face. She had a dream that she had woken up in a park. It was the largest park she had ever seen, and the sun was shining brightly from a clear blue sky.

"Lilybet!" she looked down and saw a pair of dark eyes shining at her.

"M-mona…" was all she choked out. She looked at the girl. She was in a beautiful little pink dress. Her hair was in two braids, and she looked plumper and happier than she had ever been. There was no smudge on her nose.

"I like it here, Lilybet. My mama and papa live just down the road, they have a beautiful cottage, you should come see it."

She fell to her knees as tears blinded her vision. "I'm so sorry Mona, I should never have let that happen-"

"Why are you sorry? I'm not mad at you. I like it here. I'm happy here. I love you."

"I love you too, Mona." She smiled through her tears and drew the child close, feeling her warmth and happiness in her body.

"Tell Pierre and the others I miss them and not to worry about me, okay? I don't want you to worry either."

"Okay."

Elisabet stared, the tears now full of gratitude and relief. She walked over to the crucifix sitting on the window, fell to her knees, and began to pray. She still heard the little girl's laughter in her heart as she hoped that it was more than a dream.

**_Author's Note: I am REALLY sorry about how long this one took, but it was a really hard one to write for some reason. The others should be coming at a faster pace. Let me know if you liked it, thanks for all the encouragement everyone! :) I hope it was enjoyable!_**


	17. Chapter 16

It must have been past midnight and yet, try as he might, Javert could not get himself to fall asleep. He just lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, his mind wandering to a few hours ago when he had a hysterical Lilybet on his hands. When she asked him to hug her. When he burned any bridge that might let him cross back into his secrecy and isolation. She was angry, upset, and she looked to him. She looked to him for comfort in her darkness. People needed Javert all the time; people needed him to find their stolen property, to rid the streets of convicts, to deliver justice. Lilybet needed him to save her from her loneliness- to understand, to protect, to listen. And Javert had begun to need her too. He hated it, he was ashamed of it, and yet he wanted it. This girl had an understanding of him that nobody had bothered to find before. She was too naïve and trusting for her own good, and even when she got to know him better she was too stubborn to stop trying to be close with him. "I would cry for you", she said.

Of course, it also could have been in the emotion of the moment. She did not seek him out, he found her in her state. Maybe she did not want to see him; it could have very well been that Javert simply entered at a convenient time. She could have wanted anyone to hug her, only because Javert was there did she ask him to.

No, what did it matter? Why was this child causing him so much turmoil? He turned to the side and shut his eyes, pulling the covers tighter as a chill descended. Javert was suddenly aware of how lonely he was by himself in his large bed, in his empty house.

The next morning he walked into the jail. What few hours of sleep he had gave him little rest, but he knew that lack of sleep could never be enough to detain the relentless arm of the law. Even if he had woken up half blind, he would still go on with his routine.

"A letter came for you, sir, from Paris." One of his assistants stood beside the door and bowed low when he approached.

"Thank you." Javert responded, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement. There were many new recruits this year, he could hardly remember each one of their names. What could it possibly be now? Perhaps news on Valjean? His heart quickened with his footsteps, but his face remained a mask. Upon entering into his office, Javert stood and observed the letter on his desk.

_Inspector Javert, Montreuil su Mer Police _

He stood by his desk as he opened it and read the finely written words within. His eyes hopped from word to word and he read it twice to make sure he understood it, and yet it would not sink in. He could not force himself to be happy.

It was going to happen sooner or later, Javert knew. He just did not expect it now.

* * *

She laid the single daisy on the mound and gently bent to her knees. Elisabet carefully took a small cluster of dirt and rolled it between her fingers. It was almost as if a little piece of Mona was in every grain.

"I hope it is beautiful wherever you are, little one." Has it really been a month since it happened? A month since Clarice left, a month since the dream, a month since she realized that Javert did care about her.

When she had woken up the next morning, her cheeks crusted with dried tears, Elisabet found herself cuddled with the blue tarp she had given to Javert long ago. It seemed that he left it as a pillow for her. The thought of it and the feeling of falling asleep on him made a smile fight through her pain and break onto her face like a ray of sunshine during a thunder storm. Elisabet closed her eyes and lay back on it. Mona is fine, she told herself. She is with her parents and she's happy with God. The tears burned her eyes as they brimmed over and flowed down her face. How did Javert put up with her? It was all a blur now, but she assumed she was hard to handle judging by how weak she felt now. She remembered little snippets with him; how he took her from the officers, how he supported her on the way home, how gently he spoke to her, how timid he was at her request for a hug… and yet he did it. He held her until she fell asleep. The ruthless, impassive Inspector Javert cared about the young, naïve, annoying girl who wouldn't leave him alone. On the surface, it was quite a queer friendship they had- but inside, they connected. It wasn't that they understood each other that drew them close; it was how hard they tried.

The week after the accident he had even visited her twice. They were brief visits in which he would ask how she was and if she needed anything- "my duty to ensure the personal safety of the towns people" he called it, when she had expressed her gratitude- and he would leave a short time later. 'Mademoiselle', he still called her. Elisabet would have to remember to fix that.

During the last few weeks of class preceding summer break, she had met with him a number of times- either after his prayers or after he classes were over- and they just walked and talked about simple things: his day, her classes, what his horse should be named… she would tell him stories from her uncle's farm and he would complain of unfit officers and his days at Toulon, of Jean Valjean and his uncertain death. Though he spoke of it little, she knew it bothered him that he had both deceived him and escaped him.

She thought of the kind eyes of Monsieur Madeleine. She thought of Javert, bleeding and barely conscious. He can't possibly be good, she told herself. Javert knows him better, and anyone who could hurt him that much couldn't be a good man.

Elisabet was struck when she remembered that the tarp was still sitting in her bedroom. She had meant to give it back time and time again, and yet whenever she saw him it was either without it or she told herself she would give it to him before he left, forgetting soon after. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She made a mental note to become more organized- unfortunately it got lost in her mess of other thoughts somewhere down the line. Nevertheless, she nodded to herself and resolved to go get it today and find him. She would need to change, of course, she thought as she looked down at her pants and shirt.

No, why did she have to change? She was only seeing Javert. Who cared how she looked? And yet the feeling of him looking at her in street clothes had been embarrassing her lately. Maybe she was becoming more ladylike on her own. She knew it didn't have anything to do with Javert himself. She repeated that to herself as she stood up.

"Goodbye, little one. I shall come again next month. I love you." Elisabet kissed the unmarked little stone they put as Mona's grave marker, a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes as she thought of the sweet, dark eyes and beautiful face.

She wondered what Mona would have been if she had the chance to live, if she had the chances that Elisabet got in life. Certainly she was more deserving of it.

"Why does God take so pure a soul away, yet leave something like me to live?" Since the moment of the dream, she had promised herself that she would be more grateful, humble, and would be more diligent in her prayers. She prayed every night and went to church every Sunday. She told her father that she loved him. She did not go out of her way to oppose him at every turn. And whenever she felt that she would falter, the image of Mona would swim before her. Elisabet knew she was watching over her. She knew that she owed it to her little friend.

She raised her eyes to the sky and gave a nod before walking back on the warm summer day.

* * *

As Javert was guiding his horse out of its stable, he felt a certain numbness. It was a month since he got the letter from Paris, and he spent all day yesterday packing his things so that he could leave early in the morning. One of the men on the force would be stepping up to the position of Inspector- the last two weeks he had spent being deluged by officers trying to curry favor for a good report to Paris. Javert responded to none of it; he wrote his recommendations and observations, made arrangements for a new house in Avignon, met with their current head of police to learn more of the city.

He had done everything but tell Lilybet.

All that filled his head now was thoughts of how she would react when she did not see him in town. She would most likely go to the jail and ask to see the Inspector, only to be escorted to an office she did not know and stand facing a man she did not trust. She would hate the stranger and she would hate Javert.

He could not bring himself to tell her, though he had wanted to. The week following the incident and the letter, he even paid short visits to her home to see how she was and to tell her, but each time he saw her blue-gray eyes light up at the sight of him, the words were caught in his throat. He knew that he could refuse the position, as well. He could write to Paris and insist to remain in Montreuil su Mer, and continue the friendship he had fallen into. But he knew in his heart that he could not. The girl, Lilybet, had awakened feelings within himself he thought dead, and he thought of her more than he could admit. She perplexed him and angered him, annoyed him… and cared for him. She did not care about his background or his solemn, cold demeanor. She trusted him from the moment he saved her that night all those months ago, and though they were at odds on many things, they shared an internal bond that neither could explain. He told her things he told no one, and she did likewise. She was there for him.

It was stupid, it was dangerous, and it was irresponsible. Javert knew he could never develop any other type of feelings for the girl- she was young, idealistic, and full of a spirit that had long since withered away within him. She would never see anything within him either- he was cold and brooding, reaching the end of his prime. She wanted happily ever after. He knew that it would be trouble to get close to someone, but despite that he allowed himself to care, to need. She opened him up, and as a result he had almost broken his solid composure a number of times- the apple thief, the hospital, the meeting with her cousin, the convicts on death row… If he stayed, it would only continue until everything he worked so long to achieve within himself was destroyed. He would hurt the both of them. He would eventually let her down like he let down everybody else, and this way he could leave before it happened. He could leave and she would go on living a happy, normal life. She would find someone else to be her friend, someone who deserved it. Perhaps she would go back to Martin. Javert did not doubt that she would forget him soon enough. He would be a distant memory she would recall, maybe even faintly smile on.

Besides, the next step after such an important promotion could be the Paris police force and maybe… maybe eventually he would become Paris Prefect himself. Maybe a general. He vowed to himself to work twice as hard and rebuild the walls Lilybet had torn down. He knew that he would not let anybody get that close ever again. He did not want to.

Clearly, God would not allow him to escape so easily.

"Hello, Inspector." She saw him on his horse and walked over, smiling brightly through tears. She had been at the grave again.

"I am on patrol" was all he answered calmly and briskly as his insides battled.

"Do you have time to wait maybe? I still have your tarp, I'm not letting you hand that back to me even if you hate it! I was just going home to get it back to you."

"I am on duty, the law has no time to wait for anything."

Her face fell into a pout. "Oh… well, I suppose I'll find you tomorrow then. Good afternoon!"

"Wait." Javert closed his eyes and conceded that he could not leave without telling her. After everything she had done for him, whether she realized it or not, he owed her that much. "Go to the park at six. I will be finished, you can give it to me then."

"Yes, sir!" she gave a little salute and bow and gave her mocking grin before turning and continuing on her way.

* * *

Before Elisabet left the house, she inspected herself in the mirror. It was a hot day, so she decided on a soft yellow summer dress and, as a last minute addition, put Clarice's white flower in her hair.

I'm getting dressed because I want to feel I look nice, she told herself. Not for anybody.

She briefly wondered why Javert seemed so detached when he asked to see her at the park, though she rationed it to his normal behavior when he was in public.

Javert was already waiting at the park when Elisabet got there, pacing slightly. She stuck her arms out. holding the tarp.

"Sorry it took so long to get it to you." She shrugged sheepishly and sat down on the bench. He stood, looking at the ground. She furrowed her brow. "Don't you want to sit?"

"No I… I have matters to attend to."

"What kind of matters?"

"Important matters."

"Like what?"

"Just important matters."

"Are you pregnant?"

"What?"

"That would be an important matter."

"Stop it."

"Then tell me."

"You will find out soon enough."

"Javert." Elisabet had had enough. He was acting strange; he would not meet her eyes and kept moving his feet. Concern crept through her. She rose and walked over to him, lightly putting her hand on his shoulder, looking up at him and silently pleading for the truth. "What happened?"

Their eyes met and for the first time, Elisabet thought she saw genuine apprehension in Javert. The pale green eyes that were normally so sure and in control were filled with frustration, hesitation, and… was it sadness? Uncertainty? Whatever it was, she did not like it one bit.

He turned and walked a few steps away, his back to her. "I am leaving" was all he said.

She did not understand. "Where?"

"Avignon."

"When will you be back?"

He did not answer. Elisabet felt her stomach twist as a possibility dawned on her. "When will you be _back_?" She repeated with more force.

"I will not be."

She felt a cold wind blow into her and swirl around her head and her heart until they were spinning out of control. "What?" she asked dumbly.

"I am being assigned to head the police force of Avignon. The Paris Prefect himself recommended me for the job."

"And you want to go?"

"It is not what I want that is important, it is wherever my duty takes me. I am proud to serve the law wherever it calls for me."

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow." The word hit her harder than the metal bars ever could. Tomorrow.

She gulped. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Most likely not."

There was silence as Javert stood with his back to her.

"Look at me."

"What?"

"Turn around and look at me." He obliged and met her eyes again. Elisabet could almost see the scared child he once was, small and afraid of being a disappointment. "Do you care about me?"

"Care about you?" he repeated softly.

"Yes. I don't want any of your detached Inspector shit. I want an honest answer. You're the best friend I've ever had. How do you feel about me? Do you care about me? Am I your friend?"

He took a few steps towards her, nearly matching her tone. "Yes. Yes, I care about you. But no matter what you want me to be, I can never change. I will always be the man I am, only getting older and older. My duty will always be to the law, and I must go where it calls. I am the protector of scores of people, and my work takes me to a new place, a new place where I am to fight the crimes of those who threaten the lives of innocent citizens."

So it was final, then. He was leaving. Elisabet looked up at him. He had an air of pride about him and looked more like the Javert she knew when she first met him. Selfish worries started knocking against her head. What would happen to her? Who would walk her home? Why was Javert leaving her?

Take me with you, she wanted to say. Don't leave me behind. She imagined a time when she would finally break through the final vestiges of his hard shell, him trusting her. She wanted to see him smile in public, a smile of genuine happiness. She wanted to make him happy and… and then what? What would have happened? Once again she felt like a child in his presence. A child with silly hopes and dreams who knew that deep inside they would never come true. She just never expected him to leave so soon. She never expected the impact he would make on her.

"Will…will you keep in touch with me?"

"I will try." Javert said.

As if she wasn't enough of a little girl at that moment, Elisabet wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head in his chest. She felt a looming sensation that told her that he would not come back. She held on as tight as she could, trying desperately to memorize his scent, the feel of his uniform, the rigidity with which he carried himself. What she did not know was that deep inside, he was trying to do the same thing to her.

"Promise me. Promise me you'll try." She was muffled, but he heard her still.

He sighed. "I promise I will try."

"I'll miss you."

"I will miss you as well, Mademoiselle" she thought she heard. It was very faint, less than a whisper, so she could not be sure. She liked to think that he said it.

He reached a hand up and briefly patted her on the back. Another wave of regret washed through her when she realized that he would never learn to hug freely, either. She hoped that someone else would teach him, and yet the thought of someone replacing her made her angry.

No, she told herself. As long as he's happy, it doesn't matter.

But he couldn't be happy. She knew him. He didn't look as happy as he said he was.

Elisabet reached into her hair and pulled out her white flower, putting it into Javert's hands.

"Take this. Like a good luck charm."

His mouth moved but he made no sound as he stared at the little ornament, then up at her. "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

"I must be gone before the sun sets. Would you like me to walk you home?"

"No." She said right away, nearly cutting him off. "I can find my own way, I don't want to detain you."

Was it her imagination, or did he look a little disappointed?

"As you wish. Good evening, Mademoiselle Lilybet."

"Goodbye, Inspector Javert." He bowed slightly and they stood staring at each other awkwardly for nearly a minute, both having so much on their minds, so many words yearning to be spoken, and yet none that they had the courage to say.

Elisabet turned away first and started walking. After a few minutes, she regretted her decision.

"Actually, Javert, if you could still walk me-" When she turned around, he was riding away on his horse, only identifiable as an officer by his coat and hat. He could have been anyone at that point. She stood and watched him disappear. No tears, no sadness, no anger.

There was only emptiness. Elisabet had no idea what to do now. She had no idea what to do ever. All she knew was that she was alone again, and so was he.

**_Author's Note: The next chapter will not be available for at least a week- think of it as an intermission of sorts ;D Also, to answer a couple of questions: I have not decided if the two would appear again, but that's for me to know and y'all to find out! Also, I know the name is 'interesting' and, well, may not even be an actual name from anyone, but when I was looking for a name I looked at cute nicknames and Elizabeth II's nickname was Lilibet when she was younger, which I fell in love with, but I didn't want to use Elizabeth because I thought it sounded too English, so I changed it to Lilybet/Elisabet. It may be strange but I'm sticking by it :P_**

I worked really hard on this chapter, I hope you all like it! Reviews mean so much, thank you to all of my lovely readers who have been so encouraging so far!


	18. Chapter 17

**_Author's Note: Hey guys! So I know I said no new chapters until next week, but I just had the idea for this intermittent chapter thingy and decided to write it. The actual plot continuation will happen by the latest Sunday, this is kind of just a short drabble about how they're feeling a couple of years into the separation. AND to answer another question, I will be keeping it in line with the show/movie and with my prologue. Now stop with the plot questions, you'll find out soon enough! :3 Please review and let me know if you liked it, I thought it would be good to add this in as a little midway transition but I want to know what you guys think. Thanks for reading! :)_**

The colored shadows of stained glass windows danced about on the church floor. Elisabet looked at the clock. Gretchen was already five minutes late; no matter, she had no problem- she had developed a habit of sitting in the chapel on Wednesdays.

"To pray" she told the nuns.

"To think" she told her father.

To wait, she knew herself. For what? She had nothing to wait for anymore. Elisabet shrugged. It was just one more childhood fancy she could not get rid of.

It was amazing how much things had not changed since the old inspector left. After he had gone, she went through several stages. At first, she was stunned. She could not let herself believe that he had gone and she went to the chapel every day and stood near the jail, waiting for him. Then with a start she would remember that he would not come back, and it felt as though someone punched her in the stomach. Then, she began feeling optimistic again- she could go visit him some day and they would reunite; besides, he promised to keep in contact. Elisabet eagerly checked the post every day, and yet nothing came: no responses to her letters, no letters of his own… so she got frightened. Had something gone wrong on his trip? Did he get hurt, or worse? She had not eaten that whole week because she was sick with worry. Next she felt an extraordinary depression settle onto her. It was all her fault that he was not answering her. Perhaps he had taken offense when she did not want him to walk her home the night he left. Perhaps that made him think she did not want anything to do with her. She knew it, she was too annoying to him. Too immature. He probably couldn't wait to get away. Soon, the sadness turned to anger. She had given him all of her trust- and then what? He turned it back on her. He knew what he meant to her and he just abandoned her, left her.

But that was two years ago. Now, she looked back at the whole ordeal with a slightly pained detachment. She had grown since then. He had shown her how naïve and immature she was. Elisabet knew better now. Hadn't he told her several times that he did not want friends? That she was just a stupid child? She should have listened before she got to close. She told him everything and he told her secrets too, and she allowed herself to feel something for him- what it was exactly, she did not know, but when he left, she felt something wither and hard stone to rise in its place. She had tried so hard to bring his walls down, and in the end he only gave her the tools and left her alone to build her own fortress. He taught her that she could not be so idealistic and naïve as to trust anyone with everything. Giving your whole self to one person only made you weaker, so when they left you, you were only that much more exposed. Elisabet would not allow herself to be exposed again.

Occasionally, of course, cracks would appear in her fortress. She would walk past the jail and almost see him saving her from what she was certain was a near-death experience. She noticed the hospital and remembered waking up in the white room and him sitting at her bedside, spilling the feelings he could only tell to someone unconscious. He cared for her then. She sat in her little room in the church and remembered how he had needed her, how he had let her sob as she told him that she was the reason behind the deaths of her mother and father. She felt his arms around her as she cried, a loose and awkward embrace that made her feel warmer and safer than anything ever could. And sometimes, she would just stop thinking and see the closely cropped beard and pale green eyes staring at her, looking through her. She smelled the cottony musk.

Those incidents were few and far between now. He was not a part of her life any longer, and she had accepted that. It had matured her, if anything- she was not a child any longer, her head was not filled with dreams that she could put her faith in someone and they would not let her down. The truth was that life was simpler by just not exposing herself to anyone. Not giving them ammunition to make her vulnerable.

As soon as her meeting with Gretchen was done, Elisabet had to go home and start packing. Both girls were meeting to say goodbye; Gretchen would be leaving at the end of the week to attend university in Sweden while Elisabet's father was sending her to the same university Clarice had attended in Paris. After her fleeting romance with Everett, Clarice resumed her regular luncheons with the cousin of the crowned prince- last Elisabet heard, they had resumed their courtship. Perhaps her father wanted something similar for her.

"Hello hello!" Gretchen walked down the aisle smiling while her long blonde braids bounced behind her. "Sorry I am late, my mother wanted me for helping her clean the house."

"That's not a problem." Elisabet gave a light smile.

Gretchen looked around. "You are here again? You cannot be always waiting for someone who will never come."

"Waiting? What? For who? No! I was waiting for you! If I had left, you wouldn't have found me."

"Well. Alright."

"Come, I want to get to the market before it closes." With that, the girls linked arms and walked out of the chapel and into the late afternoon of August.

* * *

"May I take your coat, Inspector?" The aging housekeeper hobbled over and took Javert's navy blue overcoat off of his shoulders. He did not know why she even bothered to ask anymore; it had been a routine for the past two years.

"Thank you, Annette" He mumbled, just the same as he always did. That was all his life was- routine. Every morning Javert woke up, got dressed, walked down the sweeping staircase, and made himself a bowl of porridge. He would stand at the door and pull the little white flower out of his pocket and smell it; when she had first given it to him, it was so small and soft that he had wondered if it was a real flower. It was made of silk and pearl, but when he put his nose to it, it smelled exactly like she did. It almost comforted him in a way. Ever since then, it had been a little habit of his to smell the flower before he left the house, even though the smell had long since faded away.

"Like a good luck charm" she said.

The jail in Avignon was larger, and his office was in a separate building nearer to the city hall. His house was larger too, although it had the same feeling of lonely coldness that Javert so often carried with him. His patrols were shorter and he spent more time in contact with the mayor and dealt more often with the paperwork and punishment of criminals than their actual catching; nevertheless, Javert was still viewed the same way. He was outside of society, closer to the scum that he chased than to the people he was protecting. Word had eventually gotten around to the members of the upper ring about his upbringing- that combined with his solemn and impassive demeanor served to alienate people, just like everywhere else. They invited him where his position entitled him to go and they gave him all of the courtesy that was due, but nobody saw anything but their loyal guard dog.

Javert did not mind that, of course. Things had always been that way for him, and without the child to disrupt his life, order had been restored and he once again belonged to the law alone. Still, when he was alone at home with his thoughts, they would wander to her honey brown locks and grayish blue eyes, to her mocking grin as she did her best to annoy him. Several times, he even picked up a pen and paper and began to write a letter to her: in those events, he would merely throw the paper in the wastepaper basket and chastise himself for his lack of control. The girl was a temptation, a test sent to him by God to prove himself. And he had almost failed. He shuddered when he thought about how close he got to her, how close she got to exposing him completely. She had almost succeeded in destroying his defenses and the day she refused his offer to escort her home one last time, Javert had to hold himself back. He had to hold himself from turning her around and telling her that he was staying, from calling it all off. This was better. She was distracting him from his duty and clouding his judgment, very nearly compromising everything he took so long to achieve. That was why he threw all of the letters he got into the bin. He knew it was better to sever all ties completely, it would be cleaner that way.

And sometimes he wished that he had put more of an effort into hugging her back, into showing that he DID care about her friendship. But no, it was better for her that he didn't. What if she got attached to him? She was naïve, innocent, and idealistic, and at least deserved someone who was as optimistic as her. Javert had no doubt that even now she was out with some handsome young man and a group of friends at some café, discussing the world and stories of their youth. If he was mentioned, he would be mentioned as "the previous inspector", and when a friend looked at her and referenced their friendship, she would dismiss it as just something she thought would have been fun, and the conversation would move on. She would not remember him and she would go through life unburdened by his problems. He just hoped that she would come to terms with her own.

Javert had moved on as well. His life had the same routine it had before he saved her years ago, and now there was nobody distracting him from doing his duty. He was the ruthless Inspector once again; nobody trying to learn his first name, nobody he had to rescue from stupidly wandering into jails or sitting out in the snow. Nobody who tried to care, nobody who he needed to hold while they cried, nobody to have to carry home after they fell asleep.

Damn her, he thought. He had known her about a year, and now he found himself running from her. He was afraid, he had to admit it. If he got too close to her, sooner or later one would let the other down. Either he would disappoint her or she would betray him, and he would be reduced to a frightened little boy again. People always took advantage of each other, how did he know she was better than all of them? It was a burden he never asked for, and yet he found himself reading by the fire, feeling more exposed and alone than ever.

No matter. He had adjusted himself before, he could readjust himself now. He had two years to do it so far. He was a lone wolf, destined to live and die in the line of duty. He was a knight of the law and could not afford to spare any loyalty for anything else.

Javert pulled the white flower out of his pocket and smelled it again. It smelled of nothing but cotton and his own scent. He closed his eyes and found an odd comfort in the fact that he had trouble recalling what her voice sounded like.


	19. Chapter 18

Six bells chimed throughout Paris, an almost melodic backdrop to the hundreds of beggars out swarming carriages filled with velvet-clad aristocracy. In the alleyway remained only the youngest, oldest, and sickest- which was why Elisabet sat there now, one hand pressing a cool compress against the feverish man's forehead and one rifling through a basket of herbs.

"Here, hold this under your tongue" she instructed, placing a small leaf in the man's mouth.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I can't say for sure but yes, Gavroche, I believe he will be okay." Elisabet looked up from the ground and smiled at the anxious little boy standing above her. "Run back to the shop for me, dear, tell the boys they are finished as soon as they sort the new shipments, I'll be back in an hour or so to pay them."

"Yes, Mademoiselle." With that, he sprinted off with the energy that only a child of nine could have.

A fecal smell made her wrinkle her nose as the masses slowly started returning. Elisabet could come and give them food, she could come try and cure them, she could even bring them clothes, but one things she always shamed herself on was that she could never look them in the eyes. Looking at them in the eyes reminded her of the warm bed she would be sleeping in that night as they tried to find the least frozen piece of stone to curl up in. She could sit by the fire and read as they fought like dogs for scraps. It made her feel spoiled. There was only so much she could do to help them. They reminded her of the scared little boy that grew up into the ruthless man she used to know.

The dirty, rag-clad men and women barely spared her a glance. Those who knew her knew that she would give out money and food if she had it, but she usually went down on emergency calls to help the sick. Those who did not know her probably assumed she was one of them; in her ragged pants, loose shirt, and cap, she very well could have been.

The man groaned and Elisabet's head snapped towards him and her hand flew to his cheek. It was still hot, but he seemed to be moving around much more. She put the compress back onto his head and replaced the leaf in his mouth with a fresh one. Things like this were a reprieve- usually when someone needed her down here, she would have to bring a sheet to cover them with as well.

She heard the little boy's small feet hitting the pavement and she turned around as he stopped. "Mademoiselle Lilybet! They said that if you're not back in exactly an hour they'll just take whatever money and food they find and pay themselves."

"Well we'll just have to see how fast they can take everything after we break their legs." Gavroche laughed, his smile quickly turning into a frown and furrowed brow when he looked down at his friend. "How is he?" He was the one who had gone to the shop to get Elisabet. The man was a friend of his, as far as she could tell, probably someone who helped Gavroche with his little schemes from time to time.

"He should be alright, I just want to wait for his temperature to go down."

Elisabet did not even notice the sky darken as she sat there in the dank alleyway. A few people who knew her had approached her for some herbs, whether they be medicinal or purely because they were hungry she did not know, but all that she brought in her basket were gone by the time she felt the man's head again. She was relieved to find that he went from burning to very warm.

"Wait!" Gavroche called as she got up, "Do you have a blanket or something? Won't he be cold?"

She hesitated a moment before taking her jacket off and placing it over him, closing her eyes as the cold bit into her. After a few seconds Elisabet extended her hand to Gavroche. "Shall I walk you home?"

"Nah, I'll be fine."

"If you say so."

The iron bars slammed shut in their faces with a frightening clang.

"Hey!" Gavroche exclaimed angrily.

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow to go begging again. You know the rules- none of your kind allowed out past seven."

Elisabet felt her heart drop a little as panic rose like bile in her throat. Despite helping these people ever since she was a girl in Montreuil su Mer, she never could set aside her immature fears of becoming one of them. She would not stay the night. She could not stay the night.

"No, I'm- he- we- that is, I'm not from here."

The guard looked her up and down as if she were something unpleasant on his shoe. "Leave now." He dismissed.

"No! You have it wrong, I run a shop, right next to the ABC Café! My name is Elisabet Barbier, I run a medicinal shop, I am not from here, let me out!" her voice was almost squeaking as she held onto the bars for dear life. Her head clouded with fear.

"She's telling the truth!" Gavroche added.

The guard returned, his eyes cold. He took his baton and rapped it against the bars, sending a sharp pain through Elisabet's fingers when it hit them.

Any sense of judgment she may have had until then was dissolved in panic and anger. She lunged towards the bars with all her might and caught him by surprise. Her fist made contact with his face and he stumbled backwards, clutching his cheek. When he removed his hand, Elisabet saw a small red scratch on the left side of his face.

Elisabet gaped, horrified at what she'd done. "I- I'm s-"

"You'll regret that, woman."

"Trouble over here, Inspector!"

It all happened so fast then. The hooves pounded and Gavroche tightened his grip on her hand. The gates opened and Elisabet and Gavroche were pulled out forcibly and she exhaled, nervous but relieved to be out of there. She held the boy to her as she looked up at the five men on horseback. She tried to collect her thoughts: she just hit a guard. She was now surrounded by police. It was highly possible that she would be arrested.

Her first priority was not to let Gavroche get frightened. She could handle herself, but he was already a little boy and living on his own, the last thing he needed was to be frightened for her.

"Good evening officers." She tipped her hat and grinned, praying that neither the little boy nor the men saw the fear in her eyes or the tremors in her hands.

"What is the situation?" the one they called Inspector asked. He stared down at her and they locked eyes, pale green on gray blue. Elisabet's mind went blank as the years caught up with her. Could it really be him? To her, it felt like an eternity. In reality, it was only a few seconds before he broke eye contact and turned towards the guard.

"This _scum_ and her boy tried to get out! I was performing my duty and she attacked me!"

"And you wish to press charges?"

"Hell, that's expensive. What do I care if some street rat hangs? Do whatever you need to; just see that she's punished."

"Men." He nodded towards the two officers on either side of her and they seized her by the shoulders. Before she was totally immobilized, she hurriedly rifled through a pocket and found a key.

She tossed it to Gavroche and tried to keep her voice as even and calm as possible. "Gavroche, be a dear and go tell the boys they can go home and I'll pay them tomorrow. Close and lock up the shop for me." The boy caught the key and sprinted between horses and out of sight. Elisabet turned towards Inspector Javert. "You know, when most men escort a lady somewhere, they ask her permission first."

This time, he did not look away when they made eye contact. "Surround her and get her back to the jail."

He turned around as the two men tied her hands behind her back. The remaining officers flanked her as Javert took the head, and she had no choice but to follow. She stared at him as he rode his horse, unsure of how to react. She felt a queer detachment towards him. It was like reliving a memory of happy times- remembering the feelings and events, but with the sad knowledge that she could never be a part of it again. She wondered if he remembered her. The way he looked at her… his eyes were the same as when she stood up for the apple thief nine years ago.

She could not remember the last time she felt so torn. At first, an elation she could not remember ever feeling filled her. It was him. Javert, her old friend. She remembered hugging him, the secrets they shared, how much he had helped her. Then she remembered how he could not meet her eyes when he told her he was leaving. All of the unanswered letters. He abandoned her. She trusted him and he left, cutting off all contact. He did not really care about her. She felt like a child again, a silly, ignorant child. No more, she told herself firmly. You can't trust anyone fully; here is a living and breathing example of your mistake. She remembered the pain and the anger she felt, her feelings for him being tossed away carelessly. And yet fate pulled them together again.

Elisabet decided to have some fun. If he remembered her, he would expect nothing less of 'the annoying girl'. If he did not, well, she looked like some poor street rat anyway.

"So how are you gentlemen doing today?" she gave a coy smile to the officers. A couple of them looked down at her and she winked at them. "I do apologize for the way I'm dressed, if I had known that I was to be escorted somewhere by you handsome officers, I would have put on something a bit more appropriate."

To her delight, Elisabet noticed Javert's shoulders rise slightly.

"No talking." He ordered.

She continued talking. "Although, if I wanted to look my best, I would have worn _much _less." Elisabet stood straighter with her chest out and grinned at the three staring at her.

Javert glanced behind at the men looking down at her. "Eyes up, stay at attention." The men turned forward without a moment's hesitation.

"Oh, _very_ good! I see you're well trained. There are certain things I have been trained in as well, you know."

"Girl, you are under arrest. If you do not obey you will force punishment upon yourself."

Could he have recognized her, then? Nobody else called her girl anymore. Finding him satisfactorily indignant, Elisabet ceased her comments and kept walking.

When they brought her into the jail, the first thing Elisabet noticed was how much larger and darker it was than the one in Montreuil su Mer. This one had a frame of bricks and metal rather than wood, and the cells were larger and colder. She shivered as she stepped inside, the nerves returning.

"Where shall we put her, sir?"

She looked around. Almost all of the cells had men in them. Some did not move- whether asleep or half-dying, she did not know. Others were staring at her through the bars. Was it her imagination, or were they staring with hatred? Her confidence abandoned her as she slowly realized that she could very well be thrown into a cell with one of these. All she could do was look up at Javert, wide eyed.

As if reading her mind, he stared at her emotionlessly as he said, "Find an empty cell."

* * *

Through the rest of his patrol, Javert had to force himself to concentrate. Out of all of the officers in Paris, out of all the alleys, she had to be there. She had to hit that guard and Javert had to be nearby. When he saw her, it was as if everything froze. She stared back with a mix of fear and surprise that told him that she was just as taken aback as he was.

How many years has it been? Nine or ten? What was she doing down there? Is this what happened to the idealistic young girl? Had she really rejected her given life and become reduced to a street wretch? And that boy… he must have been her son. She was at least twenty five by now, it was entirely possible. That simple fact threw Javert off- the innocent child he knew, now with a child and… married? Had she found a man that promised her happily ever after, only to leave? The thought hit Javert with an unexpected guilt. No, he told himself. It was not his fault. She probably would not have been better off if he had stayed. What could he have done?

Or maybe she was not married. Maybe she had become… he did not let himself think about it. But the way she talked to the officers: it very well could have been for the sole purpose of getting Javert annoyed, but maybe she was not lying when she said she was "trained".

He wished it did not happen. He wished that he did not see her, that he was somewhere else. He wished that the man had chosen to press charges on her so that he would be forced to act accordingly but no- now Javert had to interrogate her, find a motive, so that he would be able to give suitable punishment. And yet… seeing her gave him a strange form of relief. For a moment, his decade-long return to loneliness was forgotten and it was as if… as if he had a friend.

His brain pulled him back into reality when he remembered her face when he left, all of the unanswered letters he threw away. Javert burned that bridge long ago. To him she was just another wretch; to her he was just another officer.

When he returned to the jail, Javert looked straight ahead as he always did, walking with authority. He took his baton and rapped it against her cell bars. "Bring this one in." he said curtly, walking into the barren brick room. Javert's office, like in Avignon, was in a separate building. This room had nothing but a desk with two chairs, used only to interrogate criminals. It was in there that the two officers threw her as Javert stood staring, his face an expressionless mask while his head swirled chaotically.

After regaining her footing, Lilybet stood in front of him, her arms folded and her face one of light amusement. "Good evening, dear Inspector." She greeted. Javert looked at her, so similar but so different. She had grown an inch or two taller, for one, and slimmer as well. Her round red cheeks were gone and her face grew to fit her nose. The same honey brown locks fell across her face as the rest sat tucked into her cap. Despite himself, he looked at the rest of her- even in dirty rags, it was plain to see that she was a child no more, her curves and physique handsome yet feminine.. He even thought she looked…

No. No, no, no. Who cares how she looked now? She aged, that is what happened when time passed. The fact of the matter was that someone who assaulted a guard had been brought in front of him. It did not matter if he knew her or not, what mattered was that she committed a crime. He gestured to the chair and she plopped down with all of the grace of someone who relished ignoring the social cues and behavior of her class.

"Pups with big mouths and no claws best keep out of the dark."

She looked up at him, a wide smile brightening her features. "I knew you'd remember me."

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Because I gave that idiot a booboo."

"Why did you assault the guard?"

"It was an accident. He didn't let me out."

"The gates close at seven o clock. Nobody is to go in or out until seven the next morning. It is for the safety of the city. You attempted to break the rules-"

"Wait. No! You actually- no" she started laughing, "You actually think I live there?!"

"Well I-"

"-I have a medicinal shop on rue de Bac! It's right next to a wine shop and a café. I live just above it. I was only down there because someone was in need of my help. I'm not a doctor but I can help with fevers and minor injuries. Plus, I don't force them to pay if they cannot."

Javert felt a small sense of relief that she was not homeless. "But you are-"

"-a woman? You're not the first to bring that up. You see, my uncle has a friend in Paris. It's him who really owns the shop. But he's quite old, so my uncle spoke to him and so I get to live above the shop free of charge if I run the shop. He asks me how it's doing every now and again but it's pretty much mine. There aren't any laws against that, Inspector."

"Then why did you not explain that to the guard?"

"I did! Do you think he believed me? No. The idiot hit me with his baton, too! Look, I never meant to hit him. I panicked. If I didn't do something I would have been trapped down there."

"The fact remains that you have assaulted a man of the law."

"The fact remains that I was acting in self defense. He tried to detain me somewhere against my will and if he had that would be his crime, not mine."

He sat down and folded his hands on the table, looking at her. When he thought about it, it really wasn't a crime. A part of him was glad she could worm her way out of that. He sighed, "I suppose I can't return you to your father anymore."

"Yes, his being dead and all really hinders that."

"I am sorry for your loss."

"Okay." A long silence lapsed between them. Both felt the giant rift that separated them, each wanting to say or do something that the situation would not allow. Javert felt the coldness coming from her, he felt her holding back emotion that she once expressed freely to him. After a while, she spoke. "Are you lonely?"

"What?"

"Answer honestly."

"I suppose-"

"-me too."

"How long has it been?"

"Nine years."

"I-" What? I what? I am sorry, Javert wanted to say. I missed you, Javert wanted to say. If he could read her mind, he would see that she secretly hoped he would.

"I have named my horse." Was what actually came out.

She looked at him with interest and Javert swore he could almost see the vestiges of the little girl that loved feeding his animal at every opportunity. "What did you decide on?"

"Oberon."

"From 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'? That's my favorite play!"

"You have read it?"

"Dozens of times! I find it really highlights the human condition. Everyone is so fixed on what they think is best for them when what they really need has been staring them in the face the entire time, they just needed to accept it. Unfortunately, there are no magic sprites or flowers that can help anyone in reality."

"Yes." Javert said numbly. They just needed to accept it. "Will your husband be worried about you?"

"Who?"

"Your husband."

"I don't think so."

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"Because he doesn't exist."

"You are unmarried?"

"Shocker."

"So then your child is illegitimate."

"My _what_?"

"Your boy."

"Oh God, what do you think I've become?" she laughed. "That's not my child! He's an orphan, I pay him to help me with things around the shop. He lives in the old elephant."

She was unmarried. She had no child. At least Javert knew she had not become one of _them_.

"That is the company you associate with?"

"Yes." She said proudly, her chin raised.

"Wouldn't a girl of your age be married by now?"

"Wouldn't a man of your age be married right now?"

Javert rolled his eyes as her impudence. That, clearly, had not changed.

"For your information, I have this crazy belief that people should marry for love. Not status. I don't know what love is supposed to feel like but I haven't felt it yet. Once I thought I almost did but… it never worked out."

"Officer Martin-"

"-not him. Just… don't worry about it. It was never meant to be. It seems you were right, Inspector. Trust and friendship just get in the way."

Guilt seized him as he looked her in the eyes. That was what was different, the fundamental change that he could not put his finger on. Where they used to shine with trusting innocence and naivety, they were now matured and weathered by reality. It couldn't possibly be my fault, he told himself, that was years ago. Surely she didn't care _that _much. Besides, it was a good thing, wasn't it? She grew up and understood the way of the world now.

"You've given up on the happily ever after search, then."

"Oh, no, not at all. I know love exists somehow. I've just learned that you can't get too close to someone. You were right, you can't trust someone with everything. I'm just hoping that one day someone will let me again."

And she almost trusted me, Javert thought. But she was talking about love, so surely it couldn't have been his fault. Perhaps she met a man who stole her heart and then broke it, like so many of these women were afraid of. It actually made Javert angry. Who would be cold enough to see how trusting and open she was and take advantage of that? He knew from his childhood what it was like to have your innocence torn off and your weakness exploited.

_You did_, a voice said. _She trusted you and you left._

That was different, he argued. My duty called for me to leave, and I go where the law beckons. It was better for her to not get attached to me and for me to not become close to her.

_Was it really?_

"Well, now that we've got this in order, can I go home now? I'm hungry."

He suddenly remembered she was there. He suddenly remembered that he was Inspector of the largest police force in Paris, just one step below Prefect. He suddenly remembered why they met in the first place.

"No."

"No?"

"Even if it was in self defense, you still hit a member of the Paris police. The law dictates that you get the minimum punishment."

"Which is?"

"A night in jail."

"You're joking!"

"I do not joke about the law." Javert got up and opened the door, unlocking the cell right by it. "There is a blanket and a straw mat inside. A guard will bring you bread and water."

She stood and faced him, surprised and disbelieving. "You're actually serious."

He gently took her shoulder and nudged her inside. "I am sorry."

"No you're not."

"It seemed appropriate to say."

"Ass!"

"Goodnight." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the jail. On the way out, he instructed the guard to bring some meat with her bread, telling him she seemed emaciated. It was the least he could do. Javert knew she would be angry when he let her out tomorrow. Perhaps he should offer to walk her back to her shop.

His head began to pound as two sides waged war inside of his mind. One hollered, reminding him what he stood for and why they separated in the first place. The other told him that everything happened for a reason. He wondered briefly if she would try and pursue his friendship again, but the memory of her eyes told him otherwise.

Javert cursed the twist of fate that awakened these feelings he was so convinced had died. He cursed himself for being too weak to fight them off again.


	20. Chapter 19

_**Author's Note**__**: Hey everyone! So I realized that I forgot to mention this last chapter and I probably should have- I started the last chapter in Paris in the mid-November before the June rebellion, so about seven months before the musical takes place in Paris. This part should advance somewhat quicker than the 18 or so chapters it took in Montreuil su Mer :P Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate all of the encouraging reviews. This chapter probably doesn't have as much in-the-head things so much as outer plot, so I'm just praying I captured the characters well enough. I really hope you guys like it! :)**_

Elisabet awoke to the sound of metal hinges screeching. She sat bolt upright when she saw that she was lying on a dirty straw mat. A small cotton blanket fell to her lap as she looked at the musty dark stone walls that surrounded her.

"You are free to go" a deep voice said. She looked up- Javert stood by the door with a ring of keys dangling from his arm.

Oh right, she chuckled to herself bitterly, I'm in jail.

She stumbled to her feet, still groggy from being woken up so suddenly. "Bye." She grumbled, rubbing her eyes and walking out of the cell.

"Do you need me to escort you-"

"-Just leave me alone."

Javert walked forward by her side, looking down professionally. "You are angry."

"You arrested me, jackass."

"It is against the rules to address officers disrespectfully."

"I can talk to you any way I damn well please, you kept me in jail overnight!"

"Would you like to stay for another?"

Elisabet stopped short and stood in front of him. She knew that she had grown taller in the past nine years, but he still was both taller and larger than she was. She swelled herself up and tried to look tougher. "Why do you always have to be so calm? It's hard to talk to someone like you, you know. Just… do something!"

"A good officer masks his emotion. Emotions get in the way of police work."

"What does it get you?!"

"A calm demeanor has more effect on other people. Look at yourself right now, for instance."

She paused for a moment, angrily recognizing defeat with a "hmph" as she turned and stalked away. "Why are you following me? I'm not sixteen, I don't need you to protect me."

"I have to leave the jail as well, I have a patrol to go on."

Elisabet again recognized her lack of common sense and, rolling her eyes at herself, she quickened her pace. "What time is it?"

"Almost two in the afternoon."

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?! Ugh, I swear if I'm left on my own I could sleep through the day."

An icy wind greeted her when she swung the door open, making her instantly clutch her shoulders.

"It's c-cold out here." She shivered

"You did not bring a jacket with you?"

"I had o-one yest-terday, but I g-gave it away."

"Would you like-"

"-I don't need you to give me your jacket."

"I was not going to offer it. I am going on a patrol, I can't afford for myself to get cold as well."

"Then what were you going to say?"

"I was going to offer you this." He walked to his horse and retrieved a slightly faded, navy blue tarp from his saddle bag.

She let a gasp escape her lips. "You still have this?" Elisabet asked, taking it gently into her hands. She still remembered sewing it on her first day moving in with her father, the fabric coming from an old raincoat that did not fit her anymore. She remembered draping it over the Inspector after he took her home, assuming then too that she was just a street urchin. She stopped suddenly and turned to him.

"You owe me soup!"

"What?" Javert asked, caught off-guard. Elisabet dangled the tarp in front of him, trying to fight a grin off of her face. A quick look of realization was followed by one of irritation. "Oh."

"I'm getting peckish."

"I am on duty."

"I won't forget about it."

"I do not doubt that."

The cold wind bit harder into Elisabet and she wrapped the tarp around her shoulders. She looked up at Javert, who was turning from side to impatiently. With a jolt, she remembered that it had been almost ten years since she had last seen him. She found herself being torn apart. She wanted so badly to return to the way things were- to be friends, to trust… but she knew she couldn't. She could not allow herself to fall back into that trap; if anything, she had too much pride for that. She could not allow him to get close to her again, then she would be weak and vulnerable and open to being hurt. He never cared about you, she told herself. He cares about his job. You were just something he had to put up with.

But he was offering to walk her home…and she had his tarp… who knew when she would see him next? Obviously he had to walk her so that she could return it right away. Besides, it wasn't like she had to see him again. They weren't friends anymore, he was just an officer doing his duty.

"Mademoiselle, I have no time to wait for you to make your decision. If you do not wish me to walk you then I will be on my way." He turned and began walking when she swallowed a lump in her throat and looked down, ashamed at giving in.

"Wait. Maybe you can walk back with me since… since I have this. We probably won't see each other again, so I don't want to take this from you." He nodded curtly and they began walking side by side.

Elisabet looked up at Javert. He looked straight ahead as he walked, his pale green eyes deep in thought and yet alert as a cat. She had never seen someone who could be so thoughtful yet so concentrated on what he was doing. She wagered that if trouble were to spring up suddenly, Javert would not hesitate for a second to run off and see what the matter was. He was dedicated, she had to give him that, but nevertheless she felt the old pity creep back into her mind. He was so convinced that the law and his job were all he had in life, he had effectively shut everything else out. Elisabet never wanted to change him; she only wanted to show him that he could have something else to hold on to. That he did not have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with no help.

That she was there for him.

It was a silly, childish thought. Some people just never accepted help, and in the end all of the trust and kindness she gave him was thrown back in her face. She did not want to give him charity or pity, just a friend. She wanted her own friend, too. Elisabet would never admit it to anyone, but where she went wrong and why she tried so hard with him were questions that plagued her so much that there were some nights she outright could not sleep.

On the outside, it seemed that he had changed little. The years had added a few wrinkles to his brow and patches of gray to his sandy hair and beard, but other than that his features remained the same- careworn, but the same. He looked to the side and noticed her staring at him, and so Elisabet quickly looked straight ahead.

"Are you the inspector of all of Paris?" she asked after a time of silence.

"Technically speaking, no."

"What does that mean?"

"I head the largest police force in Paris, the other inspectors have smaller groups in neighborhoods. If they have issues they usually must go through me." He raised his chin proudly. "I am one step below prefect."

"So does that mean you'll end up being prefect?"

"Perhaps."

She let out a gasp. When Javert used to speak to her of his ambitions, Paris Prefect often came up. "That's wonderful!"

"Thank you."

"You think you'll be fulfilled once that happens? There's nothing else in life you'll want?"

"I will want to continue exercising my power to defend innocent citizens from wrong doers."

"And you won't be lonely?"

"Delivering justice is never lonely."

"Hmph." Elisabet looked down at her feet. Something small within her wanted to challenge him, wanted to open his eyes to the repercussions of his dedication; but she knew it was pointless. He would never listen, and if he didn't care, why should she waste her breath?

* * *

Javert followed Lilybet as she turned down a narrower street. The buildings here were thinner and closer together, almost as if someone had shoved them haphazardly into one pile. She pulled the tarp a bit tighter around her, staring at her feet. She still held the same distant air as yesterday, but this time it was different. It felt more forced now, like she was trying hard to maintain it. Javert did not mind; it made it all the more easier for him to keep himself professional. He expected her to ask him about his day, about Avignon… but she hardly said anything.

_That's because you didn't say anything to her for nine years_, a voice told him. Though she may have adopted his trust issues and emotional detachment, she did not learn yet how to hide them. Every time she looked up at him, Javert saw a hint of pain in her eyes. Pain with anger, pain with excitement, pain with annoyance: always the pain sat deep within her features. He could not help but wonder what happened to her that caused such grief. Perhaps it was her father's passing; or some man that had entered into her life and left just as abruptly. A few times during their walk, Javert noticed her looking at him: whether it was because she had not seen him in so long or she was waiting for him to talk, he did not know.

He wanted to ask how she was and why the pain sat there, but it would be improper of him, especially in public. Besides, she would not trust him enough to tell him, the letters he threw out saw to that.

No, it does not matter, he chastised himself. She is a girl who tried to be your friend when she was young and naïve, now she is a citizen who you are escorting safely home.

But there were plenty of other citizens, and he did not escort them home.

"Damn it all." Javert swore under his breath. He had had a peaceful nine years of duty and order, and now that she walked back into his life, he began thinking about her again. The only person who cared about him and tried to see him as a person. It was chaotic and annoying… but seeing her yesterday gave Javert a feeling he had never felt before. A feeling he would never share with anybody. It was as if a part of him that had been lost had finally rejoined the whole, a feeling of warmth and completion.

Luckily for him, she did not seem interested in pursuing a friendship once again. She would live life and maybe even find her "happily ever after". The chapter of life that they shared had come and gone and would not be revisited again. He did not need anybody for completion; Inspector Javert was the embodiment, body and soul, of the law. The law flew through life alone and unsupported, and stronger than any evil. And one day it would pay off- Javert would be in paradise eternal with the Lord, nevermore troubled with escaped convicts or idealistic girls or nightmares.

"Here." She stopped in front of a somewhat shoddy wooden door with a small sign on it saying "closed". The window sill had a frozen mound of dirt that Javert suspected held flowers in the warmer seasons. She reached upwards to the top of the door and felt around, finding nothing. She went to the dirt and dug her hand in, finding the same.

"What is the issue?" Javert asked.

She went back to feeling the door. "My key, I can't seem to find it. Maybe Gavroche forgot to lock the door? Oh yes, he probably still has that key." She shook her head, irritated but amused. Lilybet pushed the door open and let out a shriek.

Javert started, alert within a second. He sped inside, pushing her instinctively behind him. Inside were three boys, no older than twenty. One with curly, dark hair sat at the counter, a bottle of brandy in his hand; the one with short dark hair stood uncomfortably in the corner, looking up with sheepish alarm. The last one, with flyaway blond curls, was sifting through her drawers. All three froze when they saw Javert, gazing at him in surprise.

"Explain your business here, you are under arrest for trespassing." He ordered them, completely in his element.

"Jesus Christ, we come to collect our pay and you call the police on us?!" dark-curls said to Lilybet.

"It's alright, Inspector, I know them."

"They broke in." Javert countered, unable to grasp the situation.

"How _did _you manage to get in?" Lilybet turned to them, more interested than angry now.

The blonde boy opened a drawer, finding what he was looking for. "Aha! We know where you keep the key, you really should find a safer place for it."

"Idiots," she dismissed them with a roll of her eyes and turned towards Javert. "They work for me sometimes. The smartass going through my money is Alexandre Enjolras, the drunk is Henri Grantaire, and… who's this one?" she nodded towards the boy in the corner. Javert assumed he was the most polite of all of them, judging by his lack of their brazen attitude.

The boy started forward, his hand outstretched. "M-Marius Pontmercy, Madame."

She looked down at his hand, then up at his face. "Here for work, or did they drag you here? I'm not a Mad-damn it, what have you been telling him about me?"

Alexandre Enjolras leapt over the counter and turned towards his cohort. "I think our Madame is getting angry at us."

"Madame Slave-driver's going to deny us poor schoolboys our pay!"

"Idiots!" she exclaimed, visibly annoyed. The boys ran to either side of her and planted a kiss on her cheek, stepping out of the way before she could swipe them off. Javert watched the interaction, utterly at a loss. They were going through her money, why was she not angrier at that? Her own workers walked into her shop as they pleased and even dared kiss her, yet all he saw was playful annoyance. This was the closest he had yet seen her to the cheeky teenager she was.

And yet Javert could not help but noticed little notes of coldness; he was sure that nine years ago, she was open to accept any handshake that came her way, even a hug. Now, when the polite boy offered his hand, she did not even bother to try and take it.

Alexandre Enjolras eyed Javert warily. "Inspector." He acknowledged with a cautious courtesy. "You heard her, there is no trouble here."

"The Inspector was just walking me back here. Obviously I didn't expect you to be raiding my revenue, he was making sure I was alright."

"Sir, she is safe in our hands." Henri Grantaire wobbled over and threw his arm around her shoulders.

She grimaced and snaked away from him, looking at Javert somewhat apologetically. She turned to the blonde leader. "Do you have a couple of hours? I'm tired, I need to rest. I promise I'll pay you around five and I'll take over again."

"We can stay until four, there is a meeting we must get to at the café." He quickly glanced at Javert and back to her. It was too long for him to think it was a mistake, but too short for him to interpret it.

She nodded. "Alright, that would be wonderful. Keep Grantaire in the back, I don't want him scaring my customers. Take Pontmercy to the back and show him some things; if he's going to be hanging around, he may as well make himself useful."

"As the Madame commands."

Lilybet let out an exasperated noise as the boys descended down a flight of steps. She stood and faced Javert, quiet.

Finally, she said, "I'm sorry about them. They're good boys, they really are. Good workers, too. They're always hanging around the ABC, I pay them to do some spare work for me. They're just idiots."

Javert could do nothing but say it was alright. The situation was all slightly overwhelming and embarrassing, he thought he would have to arrest robbers and it was just a trio of annoying schoolboys. At least she was not in any trouble, he reflected.

"You were ready to run in and protect me." She observed, a light smile on the tarp in her hands.

"It is my job." He acknowledged coolly.

"Oh, right." The way her smile fell a little bit at his response almost made Javert wish he had said something else. "Well, thank you, Inspector."

"You are welcome, Mademoiselle."

"I would say it was nice seeing you but, you know, you arrested me." The light playfulness in her eyes told him that she forgave him for that. But the sadness that sat behind it was like the dread at seeing storm clouds approaching in the distance, slowly getting ever closer. She held the tarp out to him. "I hope you get everything you're looking for."

The sad finality of her statement made it clear that she did not expect to see him again. In all honestly, Javert shared her assumption. Who knows how long she had been living in Paris before he had found her? It was entirely possible that they would not meet again; but something inside of Javert knew that it would be harder now, now that he knew her shop, where she went… no, it did not matter. At a different time she might have gone out of her way again to try and find him, but now that would not be happening.

"Goodbye, Mademoiselle."

"Goodbye, Inspector."

He walked out onto the street again, briskly on his way to his horse, yet patrolling on foot all the while. Work provided a sweet reprieve from life. It was a time when he did not have to think about his empty house or the nightmares that awaited him in bed. He did not have to think about silly little girls who grew up into sad maidens, which may or may not have been partially because of him.

Life won't be different, he told himself. He was living perfectly fine without her for years, then after he left Montreuil su Mer he spent nine more years being fine. One meeting was not enough to change that.

But he thought of the sad eyes and forced-cold air, and knew inside that this was not their last encounter; he would just have to brace himself for the next one. Yet even now, he realized with fear that his fortress might be starting to crack once again.

Javert mounted Oberon and cleared his head. Justice took him into its sweet embrace and he trotted off, a hawk flying above the forest, scouting for any animals going astray.


	21. Chapter 20

_**Author's Note**__**: Ooooh I am QUITE sorry for the long wait. This chapter was long and I had been debating for the longest time on how best to approach it. Also, being in the midst of tech week hell doesn't help. Anyways, let me know if you enjoyed it! I hope you'll all find the characterization accurate enough, forgive me if there's some OOC tenderness, I just felt sentimental :3 Anyway, to all of the lovely fans of this story, I say thank you so much for the continued support!**_

_**PS: I got a request in one of the reviews for more Javert on his own, so the little thing with the officer in the beginning is my attempt at doing just that. He's not going to be a major character or anything. Thanks!**_

* * *

Javert signed his last report and turned his head just in time to see the tower shake and fall. He looked down from his desk and sighed at the papers flying everywhere.

"Of course" he muttered, getting down on his knees to gather the papers. He would have to stay even later tonight now just to reorganize all of these files. Unlike most people, Javert found he liked doing paperwork. It made him feel important that his report and signature meant so much- it could promote officers, demote them, and sign away the lives of criminals. For someone who did not learn to write until he was fifteen, he thought it was a good position to be at.

A knock on the door sent Javert bolt upright."Yes?" he called, straightening his uniform.

"I-It is A-Allard, Inspector. You t-t-told me to come at e-eight b-b-but if you are busy I-"

"-You may enter." Javert cut him off. Allard opened the door gently and closed it, his shoulders hunched like a frightened animal kicked into a corner.

"S-sorry if this i-i-is a b-bad time but y-y-you s-said I could sp-speak to you on t-the sub-subject of m-m-my-"

"-don't stutter, lad, nobody will understand you." Javert, of course, already knew what he had come for; however, he also knew he would never get it if he was afraid of his own shadow.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. You h-had said that I could speak to you on- on the subject of my promotion. Th-there are officers ar-round me that have only been here a f-few months that are already ful-fully ranked. I wanted to ask about me."

"Well, sit down." Javert ignored the papers on the ground as the boy took a frightened seat. He already knew his story: Richard Allard, twenty, second year junior officer. He was a smart and strong enough boy- but that was just it- he was a _boy_. He was at least six feet tall, but lanky, with closely cropped hair that might have been black or brown. He was one of those people you met that was plainly uncomfortable in his own skin: exactly why Javert never promoted him to full officer. Javert had seen Allard with prisoners before. If they were rowdy, he shrunk back and resorted to pleading with them, often forgetting that he was armed at all times with both a gun and a baton. The other officers often piled their work on him and he quietly accepted it with the stutter he showed now.

"If you do not mind, sir, could y-you tell me why I have not been p-promoted?"

"Why do you think you have not been promoted?"

"I c-can't say I know, Inspector. I d-do all the work that's given to me-"

"-Exactly. You do all of the work that is given to you. Even other people's work that is given to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I have been observing you from the moment you first asked about a promotion. You allow the other officers to push you around and step all over you. You're frightened of your own shadow, not to mention the convicts- who, by the way, are locked safely away in their cells. Why should I promote a boy who, as soon as I give him his rapier, will drop it in fear of the sharp point on the end?"

"O-other officers-"

"-have shown adequate hardness and ability to be promoted. Have you?"

"Well s-sir, if you say I haven't-"

"-Aha. If _I say_ you haven't. Allard, use your own mind instead of the orders of others. Say no to the officers who try to lay their workload on you. If a convict is riled up, threaten them. Beat them, if you must. Start there, and you may one day work your way up to a fully ranked officer."

The boy looked down with hunched shoulders, startlingly similar to a girl who had come into his office long ago, timidly only asking for his quiet company and a book to read. "May I just say, Inspector, it is v-very difficult. You h-have no idea what it's l-like being the w-w-weak one, the one they ch-choose to pick on."

Javert folded his hands and swallowed a lump of air. "The life of an officer is always difficult. The mark of a strong man is that he does not stop trying."

"I will try, Inspector. Th-thank you, sir."

"You may go."

"Do you need help with those p-papers?"

"No, thank you."

"Yes, sir. Good evening." Once Allard was gone, Javert got back down on the ground and resumed his reorganization of the papers. Whereas others might have had pity for the boy's meek demeanor, Javert had none. He could have chosen to be a shopkeeper or a farmer or a lawyer- but if the boy decided that he was going to be an officer, he had to earn it. It was a hard road to change, but every man must choose his own way and destiny. If Javert could dig himself out of the hellhole he was born into, Allard could grow a backbone.

The grandfather clock struck ten thirty when Javert finally got everything re-alphabetized and numbered. He walked over to the coat rack when the stack called him back. Did he really organize it perfectly? What if a B got into the F pile? His superiors could ask for the pile tomorrow and reach for a file and it would be in the wrong place- what would they think of him? What kind of a lazy inspector can't even organize his files correctly? The impulse made him drop his coat and return to the pile, going through each one to make sure it was nothing short of perfect.

Javert finished his re-reorganization, finally satisfied with his work. It turned out that he DID have a mistake in year organization- a file marked 1829 was accidentally switched with one marked 1826. He nodded at the papers and checked the time: a few minutes past eleven. Tired yet content with a job well done, Javert put on his coat and began his walk home.

All was peaceful and quiet in Paris- the weather was cold and crisp and the stars shined down, twinkling with wisdom and tranquility in the valley of the night. Javert looked up at them and smiled. It was the only time he really did smile, when he was looking at the stars. He liked to imagine that they were smiling back at him, his old friends beaming with pride at all he had accomplished.

He froze as distant footsteps disturbed the silence. Javert squinted into the darkness and just barely made out a figure crossing the square, cloaked and hooded. It was carrying something dark in its hands.

Justice never rests, he reminded himself as the adrenaline of the chase pumped through his veins, waking him up. He waited for the figure to disappear around the corner before his swiftly and quietly made his way towards it, always careful to keep enough of a distance to be able to hide away if anything.

After a few minutes it was clear that the figure was going towards the Notre Dame. What could they be doing? Anger rose inside of Javert at the thought of some filthy con wreaking havoc in the sacred cathedral. His pace quickened with his heart rate as the con got closer and closer to his destination.

The flickering candles nearing the end of their lives cast the chapel in a dim yellowy glow. The figure, shrouded in his brown cloak, fell to his knees in front of the crucifix. Javert stepped out and made his way swiftly through a side corridor so that he could get a better glance. He stood against the cold stone wall. He inched ever so slowly towards the side entryway, craning his neck to get a good look.

Two long hands reached up and pulled the hood down. They then were used to push stray locks of honey-brown hair out of a face that was covered with grief.

….

Elisabet blinked up at the cross, a lump slowly growing larger in her throat with every minute ticking closer to midnight. She turned to her basket and took out three long candles, a loaf of sugar bread, and a bowl of berries and cream. Lighting the candles, Elisabet placed them before her and set the food right in front of them. She closed her eyes and sat in silence as her memories fought through the hazy fog to replay themselves in her head.

The bells chimed midnight and the death of one more day, the birth of another. Elisabet stared at the candles and murmured in a thick voice, "Happy Birthday, Mother." Had Valentine Barbier been alive, she would be celebrating her fifty-sixth birthday. Elisabet often wondered what it would be like- she would be up at the crack of dawn, bubbling with excitement. There would be several pies that she had baked packed away with a necklace or some silk, and she would put on her best dress. She would get to her mother and father's cottage and embrace her brother upon arrival. Her mother would chide her for being late but would be quelled by a kiss and a hug. The family would sit down to lunch, perhaps a child or two running about the house merrily.

But no. That would never be, and she had nobody but herself to blame. She had no mother, no brother, and no father. Nobody in this world who genuinely, to their very depths cared for her. They were all dead, all because of her. Maybe, Elisabet thought with shame, that was the reason she was here. Maybe she was trying somehow to make up for their deaths by coming to church every year and leaving her favorite food on her birthday.

Something moved in the very corner of her vision. Was it her imagination, or did she hear the scuffle of a foot?

"Who's there?" she asked sharply. No response. I am here for mother, she reminded herself. Elisabet turned back to the candles. "I brought the desserts you used to make. I don't make them as well as you did but I think I did well enough. I hope you're happy. Tell Remi I love him. And Father too, if he's with you. I know we didn't agree on much or get along well, but I love him deep down, I think. There's a little girl named Mona I knew, she never got to grow up. If you see her say hello, please, she's a very sweet girl." She paused as the sickening feeling of reality crawled into her. "It's my fault she died, you know. Just like with you. And Remi. Probably Father, too. I bet if I was a better daughter he wouldn't have died."

The hard stone dam that Elisabet wore in public broke, waves of emotion rushing forward and exploding out of her in the form of body-wracking sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Every day of my life I'm sorry. I was a bad daughter and a bad sister, I made my family die. It's my fault I'm alone. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" she kept repeating it, rocking back and forth like a small child. She turned her head just in time to see a figure disappear behind the wall. The tears blurred her vision so it was impossible to make out who exactly it was, but she was sure someone had been watching her.

….

Javert was at a loss for words. The most emotional he had ever seen Lilybet was the night Valjean escaped him, the night that she half-carried him to the church and, in the middle of the night, revealed her innermost guilt to him. This, however, this was entirely different. Even then he did not realize how deep this went, how hot the guilt burned. Though their backgrounds were completely different, it seemed that they had more in common than he thought. All of her sobs and heaves were the pains he knew all too well, but after years of coldness and exile from society had hardened him on the outside, allowing it to only touch him when he was unconscious. All he saw before was an idealistic, innocent child who did not know the true pain and suffering of the real world because she had always been sheltered and well taken care of- it turned out that in her own way, she did. Javert felt a twinge of guilt. If he had known about how she felt before, about how similar they were, he wondered if he would have put up less of a resistance when she tried to get close to him. He wondered if he would have let her try and… and help him.

That was in the past. It was far too late now, what was done was done. Besides, Javert did not need help. He had long ago built a bubble around himself to keep from drowning. He dealt with his emotions one way and she dealt with them another. Still… a part of him wanted to reach out to her and let her know she was not alone in her guilt and pain.

He never even noticed that he was no longer making any attempt to hide until she turned her wretched gaze towards him, eyes widening in fear and anger. Javert quickly pressed himself against the wall.

"_Who's there?! Show yourself! If you're going to be a coward and hide then leave!_" The shriek was guttural, sounding less like a human and more like an injured animal.

Javert stepped out from behind the wall and, for lack of a proper introduction, bowed, acknowledging her with a "Mademoiselle".

She stared at him, uncomprehendingly at first, but when she realized who she was her expression changed to one of surprise and outrage. "_You_? Of all people, what are you doing watching me?"

"I saw a dark figure rushing towards the chapel with a bundle in their arms. It is in my nature to investigate."

"I hope you're satisfied." She turned towards her set up sheepishly and looked back at him, her face flushed with anger and tears. Javert noticed that she was still gasping and shaking from her sobs. "Now leave me alone."

What else was he to do? "As you wish." He inclined his head and turned around.

"W-wait." She stuttered. "You… if… I if… w-want… if you… nevermind. Nevermind, go."

He took a few steps towards her, standing almost directly above her. The only other time he was in this position was again with her, that night years ago. Javert tried to speak in what he thought was a gentle tone. "Do you need me to stay?"

Lilybet looked up and shrank out from under him, clutching her arms. She stared at him wide-eyed, a glimmer of hope in the red, swollen face. She became hesitant as she looked at the candles, then back at him. "I think… if you'd like to… no, no. Yes. No. If you want to sit you can, I-"

Javert had no idea why the idea hit him or why he wanted to go through with it. He had no idea why this girl's sadness meant anything to him. He had no idea why he was willing to take her to his special spot.

Nevertheless, he made up his mind. "Come with me."

"I can't go away-"

"-not away. Go up."

She stared at him, confused. "Up?" She looked back at the candles once again and bit her bottom lip.

"I will be just out that door. Come whenever you are ready." He nodded towards the side entrance to his right and closed the door behind him. In a way, by not allowing him to leave, she allowed him into her life a little bit. She knew he had this window of her and she left it open. Maybe she didn't hate him for leaving after all. Maybe the care the young girl had was still there just a little bit.

No, a voice said, she doesn't care, you don't know that she really cared. She's just upset. She'll take anyone.

Either way, he already made his decision. It would be incredibly rude to go back on his word and simply leave without a word. She needed someone and, if anything, he would do it for the friendship they once had. For the attempts she used to make. Maybe, to an extent, even repentance for throwing it all away.

He decided not to listen in on her talking. He had eavesdropped enough, and he knew that moments like that needed privacy.

After a while, she came out of the room and rubbed her eyes before looking up at him. She looked more like a child than ever, so vulnerable and afraid. Javert was overcome by the fear that he would break her in some way.

"Follow me" he whispered, taking a lantern off of the wall and walking down a narrow corridor. She walked behind him slowly, unsteadily. He turned back and offered his arm. She shook her head and he resumed at a slower pace. It touched him slightly that she was willing to come with him in the first place. That she trusted to follow him in her fragile state.

He came to a wooden doorway and wrenched it open. Besides himself and the monks, he doubted that anyone went up this way ever. "Be careful," he warned, "the climb is steep." They traveled a few steps up the old staircase, him surefooted and her shaky. She caught her foot on one of the steps and grabbed his arm reflexively, not letting go even after she got her footing. Javert slowed his pace for her and after about five minutes, he found the other wooden door and shouldered it so that the rusted hinges would move and allow it to open.

Javert turned towards Lilybet and watched as she gasped when she realized where she was. "Did we just come out of the tower-?"

"Yes." He answered simply. She stepped forward, looking at the tower's twin across. She walked forward, close to the ledge, and stared out into the night. She put her hand on the head of a weathered gargoyle and moved her head side to side, taking in the sleeping city.

"Why did you bring me here?" she spoke in a hushed tone, as if her normal voice would disturb Paris' slumber.

He stood next to her, looking out. "I find that coming up here calms me. I feel like I'm the only person that exists and nothing in the world matters except for this moment."

"Why are you doing this?"

He answered truthfully. "I don't know."

"You could've just left me."

"No I couldn't." They lapsed into silence after that, Lilybet clearly lost deep in her own thoughts. "I know how you feel." He offered as a form of consolation. When she merely shrugged in return, he continued. "You feel guilty. You feel as though you are irredeemable and that even if others were to regard you as a saint, you know deep inside that you are a terrible-"

"-Shut up." She turned her back on him and took a few steps towards the door.

"I am sorry. But you should know that everything happens for a reason. Every occurrence, good or bad, happens out of His divine will. We can only strive to live our lives as virtuously as possible."

"It isn't fair. I don't want to be a bad person, I never wanted to- to kill-" her breath quickened and she seemed to be fighting back sobs. Seeing as they were on a roof, Javert took her by the shoulders and sat her down in fear that she might go blind with emotions and do something dangerous. He sat down next to her, in the shadow of a winged gargoyle with a pitying face that contrasted from the angry and fearful ones all around.

"-you never killed anyone. Accidents happen. You cannot blame yourself for them."

"You blame yourself."

"That is different." He said simply. It occurred to Javert that he may come off as sounding hypocritical, but she did not understand. This young girl witnessed two deaths in a short span of time which she had no control over, whereas Javert was born a good-for-nothing street rat to a gypsy mother. He was born a sinful, evil boy who could not protect his mother, nor could she, in her nature, protect him.

"It isn't- oh, I can't…" her head hung forward and she cradled it between her knees- or as well as she could while wearing a dress. Her shoulders fell limply in defeat.

"The sky is bright." He commented softly, hoping to get her attention on other things.

Lilybet looked up wearily. She swallowed and spoke, her voice hoarse. "Do you think that stars are angels? That they're people who've passed who are looking down from above at the people below?"

"No," Javert answered , "I think that they are messengers. They twinkle and watch over you, silent and sure in their resolve. During the day they go up to heaven and say what they have seen."

"Like soldiers… or officers. In the sky."

"Exactly. But stars are beyond human capacity. They are the ultimate, unwavering justice. A criminal can hide from humans, but they can never hide from the stars."

"What if they go away? What if they leave you?"

"Never." Javert said. If there was anything in this world he was absolutely confident about, it was that the stars would always be there, shining and lighting his way to goodness.

She sighed. Javert looked over at her. Her face was still pink and swollen, the sadness and tears still very present in her eyes. But at least she looked calmer. "Can you tell which star is which? And what they're used for?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

"It would take a long time."

"I have all night."

Though he had to admit he was tired, Lilybet needed him to be there and he couldn't resist and invitation to discuss his knowledge of astronomy. It was a hobby of his, to make little maps of the stars and read books on constellations. He began with Sirius and told Lilybet about each star and everything he knew of them: when they were discovered, what they were used for… next, he went on to the constellations and the stories behind them. He pointed each one out and aside from little 'ah's and 'where are you pointing?'s, she was silent. Javert occasionally glanced over at her. After some time had passed, a small smile, sad but content, appeared on her face. Sometimes he suspected that she had stopped paying attention judging by her glassy stare, but he still went on- it wasn't every day that someone asked him about the stars.

"And that really is everything I know." He turned and met Lilybet's eyes. They were red and crusted with dried tears, but there was another emotion in her eyes. It was warmer than how she looked at him before, the cold civility she had held was gone. It was a friendly familiarity… a closeness… that Javert had not seen in nine years.

It's late and she's in a poor state, he reasoned, it'll go back to normal later.

He broke their eye contact and looked at the lightening horizon. Did he really talk for that long? He sighed; clearly sleep would not be an option for him now. He assumed it was around five in the morning- about the time he would be getting up and getting ready to go to work.

"I think I ought to get home." She said.

"And I must get to the jail."

"Oh no, is it really morning? I'm sorry, I never should have kept you."

"I kept myself."

"Because of me!"

"Do not worry yourself."

They both got up, somewhat stiff from sitting for so long. They walked down the stairs, her arm on his for support once again. When they reached the chapel, the candles were burned out and the food was gone. Javert assumed that a monk or nun must have come down and fetched it.

Lilybet smiled down at the candles. "I hope you liked the food, Mother. This is Javert. I think you would like him too." He took a step back and stood silently as she gathered what was left of the candles and put them in her basket, giving her the space she needed. She sat on her knees and crossed herself. "Happy birthday, Mother. I love you." She sniffled and wiped her nose.

"I will see you home safely. It is on my way."

"No it's not." Nevertheless, she did not protest him this time. They walked entirely in silence, not a word passing between them until they reached her door. She turned and faced him.

"Thank you, Inspector Javert."

"You are welcome, Mademoiselle." Javert noticed that she did not correct him to Lilybet. He watched her, some inner struggle playing within. She raised her arms a little bit and Javert almost expected her to hug him, but then her arms fell again and she shook her head a little bit. She took the key from above her doorframe and walked in, shutting the door behind her. Not a second later, she opened it again.

"Your office is in the building next to the jail, correct?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Just wondering. Be safe." She gave a small smile before shutting the door again.

Javert turned to walk on his way. The last few hours seemed oddly surreal, as if they happened to someone else. What brought him to take her to the roof? Strangely enough, he did not feel as he expected. He expected to feel regretful and violated that he brought her to his special spot, but no- in fact, it felt good. It felt like sharing something important that he had been holding in, like a secret. Her troubles were so like his that she deserved the same therapy.

The reality within him warned that he would regret the night; she did not actually care about him or about what he had to say on the subject of stars, she just needed a body there. He went out of his way to care about someone and now he lost a night of sleep because of it. Nothing would be different, he would go on with his life and she would go on avoiding running into him. It warned him to let go of the night and to stop thinking about her. If she decided to care again, she would try to tear his walls down and tear him from his duty. She would try and change him and make him turn his back on the law, and he would hurt her when she figured out that he would never change. He just couldn't afford that, not when he was so close to being at the top of the ranks, not when all of Paris slowly began to learn the name of the ruthless Inspector Javert, staunch protector of the Law.

And yet, as he fingered the flower in his pocket, he felt a responsibility that he had not felt in nine years. A responsibility towards a kindred spirit that fate would not let him turn his back on again.


	22. Chapter 21

_**Author's Note**__**: Warning- this chapter is pretty long, but I had to get some important turning points in! I tried to do as many feelings as I can without letting it drag on, I really really hope you guys like it. Javert might seem a bit more open than you may be used to, but I had to get his feelings across somehow. This is mostly in Elisabet's perspective. I wrote one in Javert's but I didn't feel comfortable enough- basically, I don't think I did him enough justice, so this is definitely the better version :) Thank you so much for reading, let me know if y'all like it!**_

* * *

When Javert arrived in his office, he thumped himself on the head for scheduling himself, today of all days, for the early morning patrol. He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face- perhaps during his break he could pop home for a shave and maybe a small meal. It would not do for an officer, particularly of his rank, to randomly switch his patrol time; indeed, it would be an abuse of power to do so. After issuing his morning orders, he saddled Oberon and took to the sleepy streets of Paris.

Early patrols often came up with nothing- any criminals roaming the streets were often stirring sleepily and the scum in the alleyways were just rising to find any scraps of food. The squares were empty save for a few shop owners unlocking their doors and beginning to display their wares. Javert wondered briefly if Lilybet was opening her store yet. Probably not, he assumed. The girl did not seem the professional type: after all, she had schoolboys run her store when she was not up to it. Besides, she had a long night.

The four hours flew by and by the time ten in the morning came along the streets were bustling with vendors and shoppers and beggars. He glanced down off of his horse and saw a gypsy in her dirty, colorful clothes shake her wooden beggar's bowl at him. Javert looked contemptuously down at her and spurred his horse away from the mob of people. Out of all the poor on the streets, it was the gypsies and their thieving, conniving ways that he could stand least of all.

Once Oberon was safely back in the stables, Javert removed his coat and made his way back to the office. He had several meetings today with other inspectors and one with a board of his superiors, so he had to make sure everything was in place. He pushed open the heavy door to his office and a thick, rich smell immediately filled his nose. Javert walked over to his desk and found a large mug of dark coffee sitting on a napkin. He called in one of his guards and asked why it was there.

"A woman came in looking for you, Inspector, not ten minutes ago. I told her you should be back from your patrol soon, but she just left it on your desk and left."

"Did she leave a name?"

"No, sir. But she bid me give you this." He stuck out his hand and Javert took the faded parchment he held.

"Thank you." Javert nodded at the man, who turned on his heel and marched out of the room. He sat down at his desk and opened the paper- it was an old map of the stars, as seen from "The Papal Palace"

_Vatican, 1743 _was scribbled in the corner. He blinked in surprise at the browned, fragile parchment. Stars were inked on in black, with thin lines joining the constellations. It was not a grand, historical document; it looked like something an astrologist would draw at random on a starry night. Still, Javert did not remember the last time someone had gotten him a gift, especially one as thoughtful at this…

Did he have to get her something in return? Did she think it was his birthday? He never had cause before to give or receive gifts, so his knowledge on the custom was lacking. He sat down and folded the map. It would not do to let it distract him from his work, no matter how badly he wanted to study it.

* * *

"Come on now, just a glass! I've been working all day."

"Only because you've had nothing better to do." Elisabet held the bottle at arm's length away from the boy, teasing him.

"I've done good work!" Grantaire protested. "Ask Gavroche, he and I have been organizing everything in the basement. Even when you went off this morning, I even took over the counter."

"It's true!" the child added, bouncing with energy.

Elisabet looked at her clock. It was almost eight. "Shouldn't you be going home for the winter holidays soon? All your friends left already."

Grantaire turned red and muttered, "My sister talked them into getting her first."

"And where is she?"

"Away at school in Bordeaux."

"So you'll be alone and friendless for quite a few days, then."

"Thanks for putting it like that."

"Hey, he still has me!" Gavroche interjected, puffing out his chest proudly.

"So he does." Elisabet ruffled his hair. "I suppose one glass won't be a problem. Pour me one, while you're at it." Within a matter of minutes, they were all sitting on stools in the little herbal shop with wine glasses in their hands- even little Gavroche talked his way into a small half-glass.

"Out of curiosity, where did you run off to with a mug of coffee this morning?" Grantaire asked, making himself at home on a barrel.

Elisabet put her face in her glass, reliving the previous night and wondering how best to explain. "Just a favor for someone down at the police station."

Grantaire's face grew uncharacteristically serious. "That Inspector?" When she only shrugged, he continued. "I don't trust him. Enjolras doesn't either, he told me. Why have you warmed up to him all of a sudden?"

"I knew him from before! Years ago, he was the Inspector in the town I'm from, we were friends then."

"And now you're not, so why are you still friendly?"

"Because… it's none of your business! He just helped me out, I was returning the favor."

"What Inspector?" Gavroche piped up. "Not the one who had you arrested?"

"He arrested you?!"

"No!" Elisabet threw her arms up in frustration. "Okay, well yes, but I hit a guard and it's just a long story. He only kept me in jail for one night."

"Friends don't force each other into jail for _any_ nights."

"No, you don't understand, he's different, that's not the way…ugh. It doesn't matter." He doesn't care, she told herself.

_Are you mad?_ A voice asked in her head. _Of course he does. Why else would he spend an entire night with you?_

Because he had to.

_He could have left when you were at the altar. He walked you home. He could have left you._

He DID leave me. When I wanted him there he left me. I'm more mature now, I know better.

_Is it mature to hold a nine year grudge for someone following their line of duty? Is it mature to say you don't care and then turn around and accept his help?_

_He needs you._

No. No, he doesn't need me, she reasoned. If he needed me he would have kept in touch.

But I need him- the realization hit her like a brick wall. The shameful, sad realization that after the nine years of being ignored and avoided, she still needed the man who she told everything to. And now he had proven it again last night. She was completely alone and angry, and he did not blame her. He told her it wasn't her fault. How wrong he was, but also how kind… he showed her the stars. Not just any stars, but his special stars. Javert showed her how to look at them through his eye, through his secret world. It was as if he let her into a part of himself that no one else could see, a part that floated above everything else and belonged in the sky with the celestial bodies he held so dear.

But what was she to do? She still believed that if he cared, he would have kept in touch with her. Now that they met again, for all she knew everything he had done could have been out of sheer convenience.

What Elisabet wanted to do was go run. She wanted to run all the way to his office and hug him, bury her face in his chest like she used to and tell him that she missed him and that she cared about him, that he was her best friend.

No. She had too much pride for that.

Elisabet picked up her wine and took another sip, hoping the alcohol would ease the pain that appeared in her head. She took a look at Grantaire. It seemed that in her mental absence he had traded his wine glass for the bottle, and was chugging it down at full speed as Gavroche joyfully counted the seconds until the bottle was drained.

"Twelve seconds!" he whooped.

Grantaire slammed it on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. "Ah. That's four more than my best speed."

"Wow, really?"

"You bet." The schoolboy gave a crooked smile, his eyes already beginning to glaze over. He looked down at the boy. "Maybe if you play your cards right you could end up just like me."

"Now THAT'S something I won't see if I can help it." Elisabet gave them admonishing looks, putting her empty glass down.

Hard, urgent knocks made her turn her head sharply, moving to the front of the shop. When she opened the door, there stood two people who looked of similar age to Grantaire… only they were thinner, more ragged. These were children of the street.

"We need your help; the doctor won't come with us." The boy said urgently. His female companion just stared down at her feet.

"'Ponine! What are you doing here?" Gavroche called to the girl. She looked up at him with fear and surprise; Elisabet had no time to wonder now. It was common for the doctor to reject people he knew at a glance would not be able to pay for his services, and so many of the poor came to her for emergencies.

Elisabet grabbed her basket and opened the door wider. "Come down to the cellar with me and see what you may need."

"Can you bring money too? In case we need the doctor? We have no way to pay him and you do-"

"-I suppose that'll be fine. Come." They took her basket and filled it to what Elisabet thought may have been a borderline excessive amount. "Are you sure you need that much?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Yes!" the boy said. "Follow us."

When they were going out the door, Gavroche made to follow. Elisabet held him back. "No, Gavroche, stay here just in case. Henri, watch him." Grantaire knew that she only used his first name in serious situations, so he took Gavroche by the shoulders.

"I'll manage things here until you get back."

"Thank you" she said gratefully, shutting the door and hurrying behind the urchins. "Don't the alleyways close at seven?" she asked them.

The boy turned back. "We're not from the alleyways, we live in the square behind the café." He stopped and bit his lip, looking wide-eyed at the girl called Ponine. Elisabet stared at them, her mouth open. The square behind the café was notorious for being the home base of the Patron-Minette. Stupid, stupid, how could she have been so stupid?

"D-do you really need my help?" she asked dumbly.

"Just hand that basket over and anything else you have and we'll have no trouble." A hoarse, deep voice came from the darkness behind her.

"Good work, Montparnasse. You too, Eponine. You've done your duty, now get out of here."

"What is this?" the hair on the back of Elisabet's neck stood up as she looked at the four figures appearing around her. A smaller, weasel-like man snatched the basket from her hands.

"Yes, these'll fetch a good price." He muttered, rifling through the herbs.

"What money have you got, girl?" a large, beefy man was right behind her. She looked up into his dirty face and her lip trembled as words got caught in her throat.

"Hold on, you didn't say she was a fair one." A reedy man came close to her side, his breath stinking of rot. "Why don't we have some fun with it, first?"

Another man chuckled in agreement and Elisabet felt large, clammy hands grip her shoulders.

"Well take the money out of her pockets first." The leader said, rolling his eyes.

"No, no, you said you were going to rob her-"

"-shut it, 'Ponine. Your job is done."

An icy cold fear gripped Elisabet. She felt like an egg was being cracked on her head, the icy liquid within slowly enveloping her. She tried to get away but it was in vain- they held onto her tightly and one even pulled out a knife. She attempted to break free, but the man brandished the knife wildly and it caught her on the middle finger of her right hand. For a second she thought numbly that her finger had been cut off, but it was still there, but she could see a little bit on the bone before blood poured forth and covered her whole hand. Oh God oh God, she thought. This was most women's nightmare. And here she was. About to live it.

She tried to scream. Her voice got caught in her throat.

"H-help…" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. She looked around- the Ponine girl had run away, presumably out of shame- how could a woman subject another woman to this? Elisabet whimpered incoherently. Out of nowhere the smell of musky cotton filled her nose. She imagined herself being held by other hands, kinder hands. Ones with black leather gloves and strong, uniform-clad arms. Never had she longed more for Javert to be there, to hold her and make her feel safe. She was nothing but a weak little girl again. She thought of his pale green eyes and falling asleep in his office, of sitting on the roof and looking at the stars with him. It almost calmed her down and made her forget about her present situation until she felt a body pressed against hers and hot breath on her neck.

"N-no, please, help…" her voice faded in a pitiful squeak. It was happening. It was actually going to happen.

Hooves beat viciously against the stone in the square somewhere to her left. It seemed Elisabet's imagination was actually better than she thought.

"Hold!" a deep, authoritative voice boomed. That couldn't be Javert, he was never that loud. She did not dare open her eyes; she did not dare allow herself to feel the slightest bit of hope. It was too fortunate; fate would never be that kind.

The hoofbeats stopped and quick footsteps took their place. Elisabet could not resist any longer- she opened her eyes and sent a silent, fervent prayer up to God above when she saw the Inspector quickly coming over, his hand on the handle of his rapier and his face the cold, calculating mask of Inspector Javert; yet his eyes shined in the way she had only seen once before- when he found her in the jail. The grip on her shouldered slackened a bit, yet she dare not move in fear of the man with the knife right in front of her.

The armed man spun in surprise when Javert came upon him. It seemed that the ever prepared Inspector did not anticipate the man thrusting his hand out in surprise, nicking his dark uniform and, assuming by his fleeting grimace, his arm as well. Elisabet felt a fury coarse through her veins; seeing him there filled her with his safe presence, giving her courage.

"No!" she found her voice and tried to wrench free out of the large man's grip. Javert thrust a hand out at her.

"Stay back." He commanded, his eyes never leaving the man who wounded him. Shaking off the surprise, he thrust his rapier forward, pointing it directly at the man's nose. "By order of the Paris police, I command you to release this woman. You are under arrest."

"That's a copper you hit, you bloody idiot!" their leader shouted in alarm.

"No- hold on, it's that Inspector!" another said. Elisabet felt herself being let go and she went crashing to the ground. In the ensuing confusion, a handful of other policemen ran over, lanterns in hand. They were being led by that Ponine girl. Elisabet looked down at her hand. She could not see the cut anymore, it was all slick with blood. She raised her head and saw some of the men running away, being pursued by officers. Others were being held, their arms behind their backs, immobilized. Javert stood straight, his chin raised authoritatively as he surveyed his men at work.

Finally, when they were all caught, Javert paced among them, staring them each in the face. "Why am I not surprised that a fine collection such as you is attacking an innocent lady?" He commented contemptuously. "Hm, it seems as though you are missing two. Claquesous, I believe? And it seems Thenardier got away." He looked sternly at an empty-handed officer.

"Three men are in pursuit, Inspector." The officer reported. Javert nodded.

"Take this filth to the jail."

"And the lady, sir?"

Javert looked down at her, his gaze unfamiliar. She did not think too hard on it; she was used to him treating her indifferently in front of other officers. "I will see that she is taken care of." He looked towards the urchin girl, who stared at the whole scene apprehensively. "Thank you for your alert."

Elisabet looked up at Javert. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She mumbled incoherently as her lip trembled. He bent down to her level and picked up her hand a little roughly, staring at the blood.

"You are hurt." He said, matter-of-factly. She still could not find her voice; she only put her hand on his forearm where the uniform was wet with blood and looked into his eyes, concerned. "Why is it that whenever I find trouble, you are the source?" Elisabet broke eye contact in shame, instead surveying her scene. The Ponine girl had fled, after perhaps saving Elisabet's life. They were alone in the dark square now, yet she did not feel alone by any means. She felt… safe.

Elisabet stared at him again, stuttering. She was still vaguely convinced that he wasn't really there. Her head was filled with things she wanted to say, thoughts bouncing around and demanding to be heard. "B-basket?" she finally managed to say.

Javert took a moment to figure out what she was asking. "What basket?" He looked around. "They must have run off with it."

"Oh."

"Can you stand?"

"Maybe."

"You need the hospital."

"No. Please, I h-have to get home. It's n-not that bad."

"Yes it is."

"I can take care of it."

"It is your decision." He looked to the ground and took a breath, then looked back up at her. Elisabet noticed that his eyes were different now. They were not hard and cold like they were when he was arresting the gang. The pale green was filled with apprehension and concern that she had not seen in years. His voice grew soft. "Do you want me to-"

"-Yes. Please." She answered gratefully. Normally, her ego would speak for her; now, however, in her broken state, she could not ignore what her gut was telling her. She could not ignore the pale green staring into her blue gray with care that she had no idea, and still didn't believe, existed.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so." She took his outstretched hand with her good one, fully aware of the burning sensation in her other. The moment Elisabet was up, the world started spinning around her and she thought she might fall again. She stumbled and Javert caught her by the waist. For a moment, she forgot about the pain in her hand. All she felt was lightheadedness and his large, warm arm supporting her. Her face grew hot as he held her up and she felt like an enamored schoolgirl. She stared up at him, wide eyed.

No, this is Inspector Javert and you are an adult, she told herself. He just saved you from almost getting…getting… she could not even say it in her head. This was no time for idiotic fancies.

"Do you need me to carry you?" he offered.

Now, she knew she wasn't THAT needy. She shook her head and closed her eyes until everything came to a halt. She hugged herself and began walking.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked carefully.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"I need it for my reports."

"Of course." Elisabet spat. It seemed that with her stubbornness, her filter had disappeared as well. She was sick and tired of keeping it to herself, letting it eat away at her as she wondered and wondered. She wanted to hear it straight from his mouth.

Noticing the obvious change in tone, Javert looked over to her. "What?"

She stopped walking and turned to him. Her usually fire was but a few wisps of smoke, but nevertheless she tried as hard as she could to look as upset as she felt. "You don't care. You only care about your job. You don't actually care about how I felt; you only care about what happened s o you could put it in your damn reports!"

Javert looked at her in surprise. "I-"

"-what? You what? Every time I saw you since I found out you were even fucking alive, the only reason you were nice to me- the only reason you helped me- was because it was convenient for you or you felt you had to. That's true, isn't it? _Isn't it_?"

He stood, looking at the ground for a moment. "No." he said, so softly that she almost didn't catch it. Under normal circumstances she would have relented, taken his no at his word and calmed down. But not this time. Her emotions were running high and all the pain from the last decade was doing a fierce dance with the fear and anxiety she experienced only moments ago. She waved her hands frantically, droplets of blood spraying from her hand and onto her dress.

Tears flowed freely down her face as she continued. "No? Then why is the first time I see you in years because you're arresting me? Why did you let me waste years writing you letters, worrying about you? I cried for you. I missed you. I think there was even a time I thought you were _dead_. I thought that the man who hugged me when I cried, who carried me home, who I trusted with everything, who I called my BEST FRIEND, wouldn't just leave me without a word. I thought something bad happened to you. I thought that you genuinely let me care about you and let me in. You had no idea how much it meant to me that you told me about your childhood. I thought I was your friend."

"I am-"

"-but you abandoned me. You left me alone and never spoke to me again. I blamed myself too! I thought I was stupid or immature or ugly. I thought it was my fault you stopped talking to me. But it's yours."

"Does it ever occur to you that not every choice people make is to spite you?"

"What?"

"Child-"

"-don't you _dare_ call me child-"

"- I live my life for the law. If it pulls me somewhere else, that is through no fault of your own."

"That I understood. You live your life in such a shell that you have no idea how much people care about you."

"I do not need anybody to care about me, nor do they."

"I DO. I did and God damn my weakness but I still do. I shouldn't but I do. I've never met anyone like you. You're so good, but you convince yourself that your childhood makes you a bad person. It doesn't. Nobody has ever understood me like you do and I've never trusted anyone else as much as I trust you. I think… I think I was meant to meet you. You helped me. If I can't trust you, how can I trust anyone? Since you left I realized you were right. People only hurt you. If I couldn't rely on you, of all people, not to leave me behind, how could I ever possibly rely on anyone else? I thought you cared about me." She panted, her face and hand both wet. He still looked down at his feet, silent. "_SAY SOMETHING_." She pressed.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth. I know you don't care about me, not really. I want to hear you say it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that isn't true."

"How isn't it true?"

Javert sighed and turned away. "I am one of the best police Inspectors Paris has ever known. I can keep a town or even a city safe. But I cannot be trusted with another soul. I was born in sin and it is a darkness that will never fully escape me. I cannot afford to allow someone to get mixed in with it. My mother trusted me and I let her down, I let her die. You cannot put your trust in me. I will let you down in the end. Your irritating, endless pursuit of friendship did more to me than you realize. It was dangerous. If I got too close to you, it would tear me away from the law. The law saved me from spiraling into a life of hell. I cannot escape it, it is my one path to redemption. If you got too close to me, I would hurt you. I left for you as much as I left for myself. If you think I did not care after all this time then you are just as naïve as you were nine years ago. Of course I missed you and of course I care. But I have a duty to do. I got your letters. I did not open them because I was weak. I was afraid that I would respond to you, that I would not break my connection to you. You're right in the fact that I do not go out of my way to see you. I still hope that you would forget about me, that you would go on and find the happily ever after you looked for. Your life has been simpler and happier without me. But when I saw you crying at the altar, I was not obliged to stay. You were the only person to go out of their way to ever care about me. I grew to care as well, and I was afraid of it. But you helped me when that convict escaped me from the hospital. I could not leave the young, idealistic, over-trusting girl to cry and believe that she was responsible for the deaths of her family. I did it because you are my friend. I left because you are my friend. I did it for you."

Elisabet stood, gaping at him. She could have been sixteen again, ignorant and naïve.

_Because you are my friend_

_I missed you… I care_

_For you._

His words resonated within her. She was dumbstruck. It all made sense- she slowly felt her anger melt away and be replaced with a sense of lost helplessness, of sadness for him. She desperately wished he understood, and yet she did not even fully understand it. Her voice grew soft. She put her good hand on his shoulder, which was slumped in what appeared to be shame. She gently turned him around and spoke softly.

"You only hurt me when you left. I'm capable of hurting you just as much as you are of me. Your birth means nothing. Don't you see? We understand each other. We can help each other."

"I do not need help."

"Please. Please just… I don't know. You never opened my letters and I tried so hard and you- you promised you would try and keep in touch but you didn't. I m-missed you, I thought I hated y-y-you but I just didn't know w-what to do. I trusted you-"

"-I am sorry." He closed his eyes when he said it, as if forcing out something painful.

"You… you are?"

"Yes. I severed contact to prevent myself from hurting you. You should have let go and allowed yourself to live a happy life."

"I know that. But I couldn't. Please, Javert. We had to have met for a reason, God has a plan. Maybe this was part of it. You know that under your hard and ruthless exterior, you know how lonely you are. I'm lonely too. I just want you to have someone there for you. I want to be there for you." She took his hand. "You don't have to be afraid."

Elisabet watched Javert tentatively. He looked down into her eyes, and she instantly felt guilty for her outburst. His eyes were distant, with a hint of guilt within. She knew that look, instead of ever getting upset, he would grow distant, the workers visibly building a fortress around his heart within.

Suddenly, she abandoned her honed instincts and sent her arms flying around him, pressing herself against his chest, aware of the tears staining his uniform. To her surprise, she felt an arm touch her lightly, a hand patting her on the back. She smiled a small, tight lipped smile at Javert's hug.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked.

Elisabet pulled back and looked into his face, thinking hard. He was completely honest with her, he deserved honesty as well. She shook her head sadly. "I don't know. I wish I could. But it's a start."

"Would you like me to continue escorting you?"

"I would like that."

"Thank you for the map." He said, suddenly remembering.

Elisabet smiled. "Not at all! When I was on my way to bring the coffee there was a used book store and I couldn't resist taking a look. I found it there." The smile felt welcome on her face. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She hated to admit it to herself, but she knew that she would not have stopped caring about Javert even if this hadn't happened. Her feeling were out and he had said that he was sorry. He cared.

He cares about me, she thought. It filled her with a warm feeling. She genuinely felt safe walking next to him, like she did when she was younger. He was her best friend.

Only when she opened the door and saw Gavroche and Grantaire's looks of shock did she realize what a sight they must have been.

Gavroche ran up to Javert angrily. "What did you do to the Mademoiselle?!"

Grantaire seized him by the shoulders and held him back. He stared at Javert, stony faced. He then shifted his gaze and gave Elisabet a serious, knowing look. "Inspector," he greeted, "whatever you may think Mademoiselle Barbier has done, I can assure you she is most likely innocent", but soon followed it by mouthing "What the hell did you do?" to Elisabet.

"I didn't do anything." She shook her head at them. "It was the Patron-Minette, they ganged up on me. Inspector Javert saved me from them."

"Are you alright? Jesus, what happened to your hand?" Grantaire walked up to her, alarm permeating the easy-going features. Javert took a step away from her, studying Grantaire intently.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. Just a scratch." She told him. "You can go now, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Here, I'll pay you." Elisabet went around the counter and took money, handing some to Grantaire and a bit to Gavroche.

"Alright, we'll be leaving you alone, then. Goodnight." Grantaire opened the door and Gavroche ran out, but not before glaring at Javert. Grantaire stood, holding the door, staring at Javert. Elisabet nearly choked on the tension hanging in the air. "After you, Inspector, sir." He said. Javert turned to look at Elisabet, meeting her eyes. Though not a word passed between them, she understood exactly.

"Actually, he's staying here, I have to help him with his investigation."

"If you say so. Goodngiht."

After the door shut, Javert turned to her. "What do you need me for?"

"You heard me. You wanted to know about what happened."

He looked at her apprehensively. "Yes, but- you do not have to tell me until you're comfortable."

"I know. I trust you." The five little words she spoke meant more to Javert than she knew.

She walked over to him, concerned. She gently touched the torn fabric of his sleeve, pulling her fingers away to see blood. She did not miss Javert's wince when she touched the wound.

"Let me help you, at least with this."

"It will be fine-"

"-please, Javert. Let me." She stared at him pleadingly.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course! Come to the cellar." She took him gently by the good arm and led him down.

"I do not think you are fit to do anything until you take care of yourself." He reminded. In truth, Javert just noticed that it did not stop bleeding. He was worried that she might lose too much blood by the time she finished with him.

"Oh, fine, just… press this on your arm." She handed him white cloth and went to a washbasin. She cleaned off her wound and saw just how deep the cut was- it ran halfway up her middle finger, straight to the bone. It had almost been cut off, she thought with a jolt. Elisabet walked over to Javert and took one of his scarred hands, comparing it to her own. "Looks like we match now." She smiled sadly, pointing to the spot on his own middle finger that was scarred by the convict when he was only a boy with a loaf of bread.

She returned to the basin and picked up the bottle of alcohol. It burned and more tears came from her eyes. She thrust it in the warm cloth, drying it. After wrapping it with the necessary herbs, she bandaged the wound in a way that was careful not to restrict the movement in her hand.

"Now." She turned to Javert and pointed to the bench. "Sit down." She ordered. When she began unbuttoning his uniform, he pulled away indignantly.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Getting to your wound."

"You do not have to take off my uniform"

"Uh… yes, actually do. Stop being a baby, I've done it before."

"Well at least let me do it myself!"

"Fine. Go ahead and try."

Javert reached up with his good arm and began unbuttoning- but when he lifted the wounded arm, he grimaced in pain, fumbling. Elisabet slapped his hands away and resumed her work.

"That's what I thought."

With a resigned sigh, he looked up and she removed his uniform. Elisabet gasped when she saw what was below- his white sleeve was torn and covered in blood. She removed as much of the shirt as she needed to.

Just like she had all those years ago, she went blank when she noticed the defined muscles on his chest and arms. It seemed he still trained hard for his police work. The years had done little to wear him down there.

"What is it? What's the matter?" his voice snapped her back into the present.

"Nothing, just- just thinking." She muttered sheepishly, looking down closely at his arm to avoid allowing him to see her fiercely red face. The cut was large, covering half of his bicep, but thankfully not very deep. Unlike herself, he barely winced when the vinegar was poured on.

"Would you like a cup of something upstairs?" she asked when she was done. "I'll tell you what happened."

He thought for a moment. "A few minutes wouldn't hurt, I suppose." And so she walked him upstairs and made him another hot cup of coffee, this time with milk. She told him what happened and soon after they just began talking… like old friends. He told her of his current work and she told him of her shop and her university days. Before either knew it, it was midnight.

"Oh, I must be getting back." Javert said, setting his cup, this time just filled with milk, on the table.

"Right." Elisabet said. She walked him downstairs and he stood in front of the door.

Oh, what the hell, she thought, I did it once today already.

She wrapped her arms around Javert and hugged her tightly. "Thank you so much." She said, her voice muffled.

"For what?"

"For keeping me safe. For thinking of me. For apologizing. For being my friend."

"Oh." He said, unsure of what else to say.

Elisabet let go and grinned up at him. "So when are you buying me soup?"

"I have no time-"

"-how is noon, three days from now?"

"I am the Inspector of the largest police force in Paris, I cannot go on frivolous-"

"-AND as Inspector, you are expected to behave as a model of civility. Would it do to go back on a promise?"

Javert rolled his eyes at her and she giggled at him. For a moment, it was almost as if all the troubles between them had disappeared and they were friends again, no problems between them. It was in that moment that Elisabet resolved to make the 'almost' disappear.

"Fine. For a short while." He said.

"I'll meet you by your office then."

"Fine."

He began out the door when a sudden fear gripped Elisabet. "Wait!" She grabbed his arm. "Those men who- who- you know, what if they see you-?"

Javert looked down at her confidently. "Then they best get to hiding. The two that have not been arrested are no match for me."

"Okay… just be safe, okay?" she said apprehensively.

Javert bowed, brushing his lips on her hand. "I will, Mademoiselle."

"It's been a long time since you've called me Lilybet."

"So it has. Goodnight."

Elisabet tried to poke her head out the door to see him disappearing, but the terror of few hours ago held her back. Instead, she shut the door and leaned against it, exhaling. The day had taken its toll on her, both physically and emotionally.

_I missed you… I care_

The trusting young girl within her was confident that he meant everything he said. The adult who built the barrier could only hope.

Either way, she was getting free soup.


	23. Chapter 22

_**Author's Note**__**: A more lighthearted chapter to break up all the tears- enjoy! :D Let me know how you like it! Also, question: Do you guys like it better when I break up the POVs with a line, or should I just break up the scenes with the line and move fluidly through the POVs if they're in the same scene?**_

* * *

It was a crisp, fresh morning when Elisabet got up that Saturday. She looked at the clock. It was only ten: early for her when she had no reason to wake. On Saturdays she didn't open the shop until three in the afternoon, so she was relieved that she had no one to pay or trust to look after the place while she was gone. The first thing she did that morning was unlock the door and go to the little wooden box she had attached to the door- it was orders to be prepared for when she was closed, but someone needed to make a purchase. Customers would leave a slip of paper with their names, necessities, and the time and date of when they would pick it up. There were only three that day, but all were for promptly at three o' clock. Elisabet decided to take care of them before she did anything else, and so when they were all bunched and prepared, she left them in the cellar and went ahead to get ready for her day with the Inspector.

That night three days ago felt like a dream now, a horrible nightmare that made her shake whenever she thought about it. However, it felt so good to not force herself to be distant from Javert anymore- she felt as if a part of her was returned after being missing.

Elisabet opened her closet and picked a long-sleeve green dress to wear. She then exchanged it for a violet one, and then finally settling on a warm, baby blue dress.

"It doesn't matter what I wear, I'm just seeing Javert. I don't care how I look and neither does he. He's seen me in pants before" she told to herself. And yet, another part of her questioned why she changed her dress three times.

Still, she thought, turning in the mirror, the dress DID flatter her curves, and the blue went well with her eyes. "Maybe I'll meet Prince Charming today" she smiled to herself, justifying her outfit. When Elisabet was set on her hair, it was already a quarter to twelve. She gave herself a final nod, grabbed her coat, and walked out the door.

* * *

Javert was nearing the end of what seemed to be an endless amount of paperwork, filling out the final details of the arrest of a gypsy found harassing a gentleman the other day. A small, soft knock on his door made him look up.

"Enter." He called, setting his pen down. One of his officers entered the room- Javert immediately noticed the unsure, curious look on his face. "What is it?" he asked coolly.

"Inspector, sir, there is a… a woman here to see you. I told her you were busy and that she should schedule an appointment, and she replied that you had an appointment for soup. I didn't really understand…"

Javert gave an irritated sigh and put his pen down. He looked up at the clock; it was five minutes past noon already. He looked down at his papers. Friend or not, duty came first.

"You may tell the Mademoiselle that I will be out shortly." He instructed. The officer shut the door and Javert moved to the next sheet. He barely got through half of it before there was another knock. "Yes?" he asked, impatiently.

The same officer came in. "Sir, she says she insists that you let her in."

"Well, tell her she cannot."

"You're already nearly ten minutes late, the least you could do is not let me wait outside!"

Javert gritted his teeth at the voice coming from down the hall. Really? She was really going to be impertinent to him in front of his own men?

"Go away" he called, picking up his pen and making himself appear busier than he was.

"No!"

"Shut the door, please." He commanded his officer, not looking up. The man obliged and all he could hear was Lilybet's loud 'ugh!'.

At twelve fifteen, Javert finally got up after writing his signature on the last page. He walked over to his coat rack and held the hanging tarp lightly in his hands. He was about to go fulfill a nearly ten year soup debt. He believed the girl had grown up and realized that caring for him was useless, but he was wrong. She had cared. She still cared. She still wanted to be his friend.

When he thought of what happened those three nights ago, he was filled with the mix of fear and anger that he would never reveal to anyone, the same feeling he got when he narrowly missed saving her from the prisoner in Montreuil su Mer. The convicts grabbing her everywhere, her scarlet hand… he could not bring himself to envision what would have happened if he did not get there. He saw her hand and felt guilt for not getting there earlier. How any sane man could do that to a lady, he did not know. It was disgusting, it was filthy… and it had to be her. Javert told himself that he would have felt that way if it was anyone else, he knew he would have. But it had to be her. It had to be Lilybet. And when she told him- when she _cried _to him- about how she thought he abandoned her, about how she cared and still cared, he was caught off-guard.

Surely it was just her emotions running high, he told himself. He gave her no reason to care that much, but she insisted she did. And why did he tell her how he felt? How could he let his weakness shine through?

_You don't have to be afraid_.

She felt safe with him.

And those eyes. He could not stop thinking about how she looked at him, standing there and shaking in the darkness. The bluish gray eyes that were filled with tears no longer looked at him with her artificial indifference. They were filled with pain and hope, with sadness… and trust. She did not stop trusting him. I trust you, she even said. Even after all these years, she still looked beyond his title. She looked at him and forgave him. Forgave the sin he was born into and the pain he has caused her.

No. She didn't. Not yet.

Nevertheless, Javert would never admit it but when she hugged him again, he closed his eyes and felt a comfort he had known little in his life flood through him. It felt almost okay to let someone get close, almost okay to be afraid.

But it wasn't, the sensible part of him said. It was dangerous. He escaped from it once, but it seemed that life was not finished tormenting him. He would see her right in front of him and ache for his circumstances to be different, he wished he was not so unworthy of compassion and friendship and that he could show his care freely. But this was his life, and he could do nothing but his work and live his life as a lone wolf.

Another, much deeper part had awakened that night. A part that he thought died when he left Montreuil su Mer. It was the part that spoke for him that night and the part that was now telling him that he needed her as much as she needed him. That it was not a curse, but a blessing. She understood him in a way nobody else would, and she looked to him for his help no matter how many times it had caused her trouble. It was the part that made him almost hug her back- but she had the delicate emotions of a woman, so naturally in times of strife she would look for physical comfort. As a man and an inspector, he knew to be harder.

Javert looked sharply at the clock when another "Ugh!" broke his trance. It was twenty past. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he walked out to meet the source of his inner turmoil. He saw her sitting on a wooden bench in the hall, her feet kicked out and her face in a childlike pout.

"Mademoiselle." He greeted.

She looked up at him grumpily. "Hmph. I took you as a man of your word."

"I am here, am I not?"

"Nearly half an hour after the time we agreed on! You're lucky I'm still here, I ought to have left when you refused to let me in your office."

"You cannot barge in brazenly and expect me to interrupt my work."

"I did _not_ barge in! I asked politely to see you; you're just embarrassed that I told your officer that we had a soup date!"

Javert was struck by how accurately she read him. He replied, somewhat more flustered than intended. "It is not a date! I am paying a debt."

"Nonetheless, believe me I could have barged in if I wanted to."

"I can go back to my office, I have much more work to do-"

"-no. Okay okay whatever, I'm hungry. Let's go." She huffed in defeat and stood up. When she stood Javert noticed how well the color of her dress matched the color of her eyes. They looked more blue than gray now, and her hair was tucked into a bun, a few stray curls falling about her face. She smiled expectantly and Javert noticed for the first time the small gap in between her teeth. It was an off-center gap, not like the common one people might have between their two front teeth. It was more endearing than ugly, really. The dress hugged her waist in the way that once again made him forget that he still referred to her as 'girl' and 'child'.

"Come _onnnn_." She stomped her feet impatiently in a way that reminded him why. He admonished himself for taking such sudden notice in her appearance. He just had to take her for soup, nothing more. Javert walked forward and Lilybet followed, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Before walking out the door, he could not help but notice the huddled group of officers that suddenly became quiet when he passed, shooting covert glances at him and the girl that followed.

"Do you know where we're going?" she asked, blinking in the unusually bright winter sun.

"There is a café in the Market Square."

"Ooh, is it good?"

"I do not know."

"Then why are we going there?"

"Because it is cheap."

"Whadda charmer, you are."

"I am not trying to charm you."

"Not even any flowers or anything! What kind of a date is this?"

"A nonexistent one."

She gave a laugh and looked up at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine." Was all she said.

"That is good."

"I never thanked you for saving me." She said suddenly.

"The law requires no thanks." Javert dismissed.

"No. But a hero does."

Javert scoffed. "I am no hero."

"You've saved me more times than I can count. Nearly every stupid situation I've gotten into, you got me out of. That makes you a hero. To me, at least."

He merely grunted. Over half of those situations were my fault to begin with, he thought to himself. "It is here." Javert led Lilybet to a small café with a green painted roof. There were few patrons there, sitting in various corners. Lilybet led them to a small table by the window. Javert, knowing protocol and manners at least, pulled out her chair for her. He sat down across from her and a waitress soon came to them, stopping momentarily to glance at his Inspector's uniform. Javert looked around. There were a couple of other pairs of eyes that followed him as well.

"You stick out like a sore thumb." Lilybet observed, mildly amused.

"Good afternoon. What will you be having, Inspector?" the little plump woman asked.

"Only a Viennese Coffee, thank you."

"Come on, have some real food so that I don't feel bad about eating by myself. You have a long day ahead of you, you'll need it." Javert flickered his eyes towards Lilybet in momentary annoyance at her complaint. He turned back to the waitress.

"And some biscuits as well, please."

"Very good, Monsieur Inspector." the waitress said, careful not to reveal any hint of judgment. "And for the lady?"

"Soup, please." Lilybet cut in insistently, flashing a smile that plainly warned the woman that she was capable of ordering for herself. "Do you have tomato soup?"

"Yes we do."

"What about chicken?"

"I believe so."

"Can you mix them together?"

"Pardon?"

"Could you mix some tomato soup with some chicken soup? Would that be at all possible?"

The waitress looked at her, a bit flummoxed. "Y-yes, I believe so. I will bring your food out shortly. Thank you."

She looked at Javert and, noticing his questioning look, proceeded to defend herself. "It's good, it really is. My aunt used to make it when she didn't have enough of one of the other to feed the family. She combined the two and they were wonderful." Javert merely raised his hands and shook his head, showing he meant no hard. She giggled at him, her eyes dancing.

When Lilybet got her soup, the first thing she did was offer Javert a spoonful. At first he refused, but on her constant insistence, he took a hesitant sip. It was alright, he supposed. She seemed to enjoy it, however, and it took her little time to gleefully finish the bowl. He nibbled on the biscuits absentmindedly while sipping his coffee. It was too thick for his liking.

"Thank you, Javert." She said when he laid his money on the table. She patted her stomach and smiled contently.

"My debt is repaid." He said, putting the rest of his money into his pocket.

"If you ever want to get me any lunch again, you can just let me know."

"I would not get my hopes up."

"Yeah, I figured."

When they walked outside, the market was in full weekend swing. Children ran about gleefully as adults bustled along about their errands.

"This is what I like about Paris." She said.

"What?"

"All of this. The life, the movement, the color. It feels like there's never a dull moment."

Javert watched her marveling at the common occurrence as if it were a work of art. Lilybet had a habit of appreciating things that most wouldn't stop to notice.

"Pardon, Monsieur, a flower for the Missus?" Javert felt a tug at his pant leg and looked down. A boy, no older than ten, was staring up at him with a wicker basket full of wildflowers. Truthfully, they were mostly twigs with buds on them- flowers did not grow much at this time of the year.

"I am in no need of buying anyone flowers." He replied, moving his leg. The boy looked disappointed and turned around.

"Wait!" Lilybet called to him. "How much?"

"Three sols each."

"Hmmm" Javert watched as she thought, and then bent down to the boy's level and produced several francs. "I'll tell you what, little Monsieur , I'd like to buy all of your flowers, plus the basket. Would this cover it?" The boy took the money and smiled ear to ear at her.

"Yes, ma'am! Have a good day, now!" with that, the boy bolted off, presumably to whatever parent or employer sent him out in the first place.

"You paid him more than it was worth." Javert commented, perplexed.

Lilybet turned to him. Never had an answer to a question described someone better than the answer she gave him. "I needed a new basket." She shrugged simply.

They almost began walking when another child darted past, hitting her in the back of the knee. She would have completely fallen if Javert had not caught her by the elbow and held her back from stumbling.

"You have excellent reflexes."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, no harm done. They were just playing." She answered amiably. Lilybet's smile turned to a look of frustration when she looked down at the ground. "Oh, but my flowers are everywhere." She began to stoop to get them, but Javert reached the ground before her.

"I will retrieve them." He said, gathering the stems and twigs.

"How kind." At first, Javert thought she was being sarcastic, but one glance at her appreciative and surprised face told him otherwise. He went down to one knee to better support himself.

"There you are." He said, reaching the bunch up and giving them to her.

"Javert! Javert, is that really you?"

Oh no, Javert thought. Not now, not here. He turned towards the tall, thin, graying man who had waved at him. Out of all the times to see him on the street, the Paris Prefect had to see Javert while he was shirking his duty to indulge in the fancies of a hungry girl.

* * *

Elisabet watched as he shot up, thrusting the flowers into her hands. He snapped his arms to his sides and gave a low bow to the man, looking every bit a soldier. "Monsieur Vipond."

The man dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "No need to be so formal outside of the office, man! What brings you to the square? I never thought you much of a social butterfly." He looked down at Elisabet and gave Javert a knowing grin. "But I see looks can be deceiving. Will you be so kind as to introduce me to Mademoiselle-?"

"Elisabet Barbier, Monsieur. It is good to meet your acquaintance." If there was anything she could pride herself on, it was knowing how to use the social skills she was forced to learn at a moment's notice. She flashed her most charming smile at the man and curtseyed.

He took her outstretched hand and kissed it. "Charmed, I am sure. Javert, you never told me you had a lady on your arm. And here I thought you lived a secluded life!"

Javert looked, wide eyed, from Elisabet to Vipond. "Sir, it is- she is not-"

"Come now, don't be abashed! I saw you presenting her with that bouquet when I walked over!"

Elisabet had to use all of her control to not burst into laughter as the realization of what they must have looked like dawned on Javert. Why embarrass the man by explaining that he was wrong? Besides, she could have fun with this.

She grabbed Javert's arm with both of her hands and gave a light laugh. "You have no idea just how abashed he could be, Monsieur! I've had to learn a second language of grunts and bows just to hold a conversation with Armand, here!"

Vipond laughed along as Javert's expression became one of stone. He turned towards Javert. "Oh, Javert, I do hope you're bringing your lovely lady friend to the Christmas ball next month?"

"Sir, I will be on duty-"

"-_And_," the man pressed on, "it would be so nice for my wife to have company, I'm afraid she finds the balls dreadfully boring. While the hens cluck you and I could have a perfect opportunity to discuss a promotion. Just get one of your underlings to take your place, it's Christmas!"

Javert suddenly snapped to attention. "Promotion, Monsieur Vipond?"

"Yes, it seems that I'm getting quite old, and police work is awfully wearisome for a man my age. I may need someone to take my place within the next couple of years, and you're high in the ranks already."

"Yes, sir, it would be my honor."

"Grand. I will see you at the next meeting, Javert. Nice meeting you, Mademoiselle." He gave a polite bow to Elisabet and smiled genially before walking off to join a woman of similar age to him, which Elisabet took to be his wife.

When he had gone, she turned to Javert. "Well, he seemed rather nice. Who was he?"

"The Paris. Prefect." He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, well that explains why you were so formal."

"What in God's holy name did you think you were doing?"

"Getting invited to a ball that you told me nothing about."

"Armand?"

"You never told me your real name-"

"-so you had to call me Armand."

"Well he had to think we were close, otherwise that would have been awfully embarrassing for him and you both."

"You had no right-"

"-to get you a step towards the promotion you've always wanted?"

Javert looked at her for a moment, his mouth slightly ajar. He then slumped his shoulders in defeat and grumbled. He turned around and kept walking.

She ran up to catch up with him. "So does this mean I'm going with you?"

He swung to face her so suddenly that she nearly crashed into him. Javert looked her in the eyes with a dire expression. "You must be on your best behavior."

"Aren't I always?"

"I am completely serious."

She wiped the grin off of her face. "Okay okay okay. I'll be a model of grace and civility."

"You swear it?"

"I swear it."

"Fine."

"Fine what?"

"You can go."

"So ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me to go with you. I can't just go with you, if you want me to behave like a lady, treat me like one."

Javert rolled his eyes. "Will you go?"

"Can't you do any better?"

"What if I can?"

"Prove it. Or I suppose you might just be unrefined-" her voice trailed off when Javert stepped directly in front of her. He took her hand in his and put his other hand behind his back. He bowed slightly to her eye level and craned his neck to fully face her.

"Mademoiselle Lilybet Barbier, it would be my honor if you would permit me to escort you to the Parisian Christmas Ball." He produced one of her flowers from behind his back.

Out of everything she thought Javert would do, Elisabet did not expect that. How gentlemanly he looked! She stared at him, wide eyed, feeling her face grow hot. When she did not produce a response beyond a few stutter sounds, Javert straightened, placing the flower back in the basket. He cocked an eye brow and looked down at her.

"If you want me to treat you like a lady, behave like one."

"H-how did you get my flower?" she felt flustered, still feeling his hand on hers even though it was no longer there.

"You are quite oblivious when you try to be a nuisance."

"I-I-I-"

"-I believe this is your shop?"

"Hm?" she did not stop staring up at Javert until she greeted the wooden door with the side of her face. "Argh!" she cried, holding her cheek.

"That was your own fault."

"I know." She unlocked the door, shaking her head. "So- so I'll go with you then. Christmas day?"

"Yes. You will be on your best behavior."

"My best behavior." She agreed. "Thank you, Javert. For everything."

"I am only doing-" Javert cut himself off when he saw the look on her face. He sighed. "You are welcome, Mademoiselle. Good day."

"Good day, Inspector." She smiled. Elisabet walked into the shop, flipped the sign, and opened the windows. All she could think about was Javert, bowing and holding her hand with one of his, and a flower in the other. How could such a stone-like man turn himself into a gentleman so quickly? She thought of the cool look of civility in his eyes when he asked, so debonair-

But it was Javert, and he only did it to toy with her. He often called himself a lone wolf but she thought he was rather more like a cat, and she was his mouse. _Ass_, she thought, chuckling to herself. He didn't mean anything by asking her like that. Of course he didn't.

Elisabet closed her eyes- she could still vaguely taste the soup from the café.


	24. Chapter 23

_**Author's Note**__**: I know I apologize almost every single time for OOCness, but this time I really do because things kind of get... well, you'll see. Long story short, I tried to keep as close to the characters and how they would react in the situations I make, which, as we know for Javert, is not a situation he is typically in. Another long chapter- sorry for the wait, but I lost internet for a while so as you can probably understand, I had run into a multitude of problems haha. Anyway, enjoy! :)**_

* * *

"Now, if you meet one of the royal family, what do you say?"

"I courtesy and say, 'it is my honor to meet you, title-and-name'"

"And afterwards?"

"I don't speak unless they speak to me."

"And what will you call me if they refer to me?"

"Inspector Javert… and not Armand."

"Stand up straighter."

"Yes, master."

Elisabet's eyes followed Javert as he paced back and forth, behaving less like a ball-escort and more like a drill sergeant. She held her breath in and raised her chin, standing still as a statue. This was his third visit in the past two and a half weeks; the day after their soup date, he had come to her with more terms for her going: he would give her 'lessons' on how to behave. He even went so far as to give her a schedule of five dates and times he would be coming to give them. However, she went along with it because, she had to admit, it was amusing to see Javert fret so much over one night.

She turned to him. "Call me crazy, but I get the feeling you don't trust me."

"Your record does not speak well for you."

"I'm offended! You saw me at the gala in Montreuil su Mer!"

"That was ten years ago and, as I recall, that did not last all night."

"Only because _you_ went and ran off!"

"You did not have to follow me."

"You didn't seem to mind!"

Javert raised his eyebrows and stopped right in front of her. "Do you want to attend or not?"

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes I'm getting a dress tailored for it and I want to walk in on your arm and I want you to be proud to be standing with me and I want people to compliment you when they see me and I want you to smile and be genuinely happy and-

"Well, I mean you invited me already." She said indifferently, slumping. Ever since that day with the Patron-Minette, Elisabet caught herself thinking of Javert more than she would have liked. Whenever she saw him she didn't always run up to get the urge to say hello, but she would just smile and look, thinking to herself how mysterious and unfeeling everyone around assumed he was, but knowing that he was her friend and confidante, and that he didn't always resist too much when she hugged him.

And then she would think of how he asked her to the Christmas Ball even after she had embarrassed him in front of the Prefect, how gentlemanly he looked. The scene would replay in her head constantly, and each time she would come up with ladylike ways she could have answered him instead of looking like a stuttering idiot.

But no. She would stop herself when she realized how silly the thoughts were. This was Javert, this was the Paris Police Inspector. They had completely different views on life and, despite her being twenty-five now, he still called her 'girl' and 'child'. That was all she would ever be to him. And he never really would have asked her to the ball if it hadn't been for the Prefect. He would have gone by himself -or maybe with some high-born woman- and Elisabet would have been none the wiser. But that was alright, wasn't it? She wanted to be his friend, nothing else. He needed a friend, and she needed him.

"You are slouching." His voice ripped through her thoughts.

Elisabet groaned in exasperation. "We've been at this for an hour, don't you have a job to get to?"

"I planned my schedule accordingly. You know this."

"I know what I'm doing!" She stepped in front of Javert and curtseyed. She gave him her most ladylike smile. "Your Grace, I am most honored to meet you."

Javert paused for a moment before giving her an approving nod.

She looked at him happily, "So, are we done?"

He sighed. "I suppose. But be ready for next time, we will be going over table manners."

Elisabet clapped her hands together. "Good! Now, why don't we have some lunch?"

"I should get back to the police station."

"You have a whole hour!"

"The earlier I start, the better example I set for my men."

"Oh come on, Javert, do you think they care half as much as you? I picked up fresh bread this morning, I can fry some eggs and cut up cheese-"

"-I do not wish to put you out of your way."

"How long are you working until tonight?"

"Ten."

"Uh-huh." Elisabet nodded and pulled Javert up the stairs. She sat him down in a chair in the dining area and busied herself with the eggs. Once she placed the plates on the table, she sat across from Javert and watched as he played around with his eggs. "Eat it," she encouraged, "it's not like I poisoned your food."

Javert was studying the plate as if it were a rulebook for him to memorize. "It is just… I have had homemade food very few times outside of my cooking."

The image of Javert in an apron, standing over a stove came to her mind. "That's adorable!" Javert's head snapped up at her exclamation, looking offended. She took a bit of the food and nodded slowly. "Mmmmmm, see? It's good. Try it, please?"

She observed as he slowly took a small piece and raised it to his mouth. He chewed ponderously and swallowed it. He noticed Elisabet's expectant expression.

"You need more salt. But it is not awful."

She leaned against her fist and cocked an eyebrow. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Monsieur."

"Why, would you rather I lied? Then you would be confident in nothing but hot air and bland eggs."

"Shut up and eat, you have a long day."

They ate quietly until Javert stopped to wipe himself with a napkin. "I very much appreciate this, Mademoiselle."

Elisabet looked up, pleasantly surprised. "Oh, of course! Thank you for preparing me for the ball."

"Speaking of which, do not concentrate too much on practicing for any Graces. I highly doubt that you would meet anyone of too high a rank."

"Who could I meet?"

"High ranking officers, generals, perhaps some dukes-"

"-wait, is _all_ the royal family going? Even from the far parts of the country?"

"To my knowledge, yes. Why?"

"No reason, just wondering." Elisabet replied. Inside, her head clouded. If she met dukes, that meant she would meet their duchesses, including, perhaps, the fiery-haired, beautiful, willowy, proper Duchess of Bourbon. She looked over and noticed Javert's empty plate. She shot up. "All done? Good, good, I'm glad you finished it, let me take that." She balanced her and Javert's plates on top of each other and put the utensils on top.

"Pardon, I forgot to place the knife-" Javert began. He placed it on the side of the plate. Elisabet tried desperately to balance it but it turned, falling on her right hand. The cold metal on her newly healed skin sent a shock up her spine and the plates went crashing to the ground.

Elisabet shook herself out of her reverie. Flustered, she dove to the floor. "I'm so clumsy, I'm sorry, that was awful." Javert kneeled down beside her and began collecting the dropped knives and forks. "No, no please, stop it, it was my fault, get up-" she kept fussing until the two of them, crawling slowly backwards towards each other collecting the dishes, knocked into each other. They turned, barely inches apart. Their hands met, both trying to pick up the same fork. The look that passed between them filled Elisabet with feelings that she did not fully understand. Her heart lumped in her throat.

"P-pardon." Javert swallowed, his eyes locked on hers. She was so close that she could smell the egg on his breath.

Elisabet turned away. It felt as if someone was holding a torch to her face. What just happened? "Clumsy, clumsy…" she muttered, scrambling for something, anything to pick up. He caught her on the arm gently and she turned around, looking up at his face reluctantly.

Javert raised her right hand, examining it. "Did I cut you when I gave you the knife?"

"Oh, no, it's just… it's silly… it touched my hand and it just reminded me, it was just an involuntary shock, it's my fault-"

"-that still bothers you?"

"Of course it does. I'm an adult and I'm terrified to go out at night now- how stupid is that?"

"I think it is perfectly understandable. It is sickening, what some men would do."

"Yeah." Elisabet nodded, frightened that the feelings from that night were coming back.

"It affects you badly?"

"Well I mean, when I think of how close I got to… to him…_raping_me." She choked out. It felt as if a bubble that had grown in her chest, growing and growing and threatening to burst her open, deflated. What she would never tell Javert were her prayers beforehand, the hands she imagined and the smells that filled her nostrils. She continued. She had gotten this far, there was no use hiding her feelings. "Besides, I've never, you know, before, so it would have been even worse." When he looked at her blankly, she tried again. "You know, I've never done _that_. You know, that. Before. Never."

When realization dawned on Javert, he looked down, his cheeks lightly pink.

"Someone's tried once, but I didn't." she shrugged.

He looked at her in surprise and… was he…?

"Are you judging me?!" she asked, actually offended.

"No, no, "he said quickly, "I just… I did not think... How… tried?"

"Well," she began, "I was a bit drunk. That's the first thing. It was last year. A man I was sort of seeing, his name was Lesgle Bossuet. We were kissing and he tried to unlace my dress. I realized what he was doing and got scared and… ran."

"Ran?"

"Right into the street. I wasn't on my best sense of judgment, mind you. But to be honest, I know I don't act it but I know my status. I'm still in the bourgeoisie, technically, because of my family name. And people would have found out. It would have just been bad. Plus, I didn't love him."

"Ah." Was all Javert said. The air felt awkward.

"And what about you?" Elisabet asked, breaking the silence

"It is not a good story."

Her interest was piqued- Javert? What could he have ever done? He seemed more celibate than a priest. "Tell me. You can trust me."

Javert took on the distant look that Elisabet knew all too well. "I was young. Barely twenty, and living in the army barracks. Even then I did not have friends. The other men, they knew what I was. They called me a class-jumper. Naturally, I knew they were also jealous that I worked harder than them- that as the good thing about the army. They did not care what you were, only that you worked hard and paid attention. But once they asked me to go into the town with them. I was surprised, but happy at the chance to socialize. I met a woman at the pub we went to. I was ignorant and stupid, so naturally when she took a great interest in me I acted like any brutish man would. She asked to come back to the barracks with me. The men, they were clapping me on the shoulder and egging me on. I did not want to look weak, so I did it, I brought her. We sat on my bed and I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away before I could and offered me wine. I told her that I did not drink, so she seemed quite understanding. She took a glass of wine for herself and a glass of water for me. It looked and tasted like water, at least. The next thing I remember was lying on the roof of the barracks right next to the flag pole. I woke up to everyone saluting the flag and… and laughing at me. I was near-naked. They wrote 'gypsy' on my forehead in ink. Our overseeing officer made me spend a week in solitary confinement for it. It turned out that she was a prostitute they hired to play a joke on me."

A moment of silence passed between them as Elisabet processed what he had said. She could even see it all clearly. When she finally had the courage to look up into his face, she searched it for any hint of emotion, but all she saw was his distance and shame. "Oh, Javert…" she whispered.

It was then that they both noticed him still holding her arm. He snatched it back quickly, looking down at his knees. "I do not need your pity." He said briskly.

"No, no, I'm not pitying you." she defended. Suddenly, fury shot her like a pistol. The bullet expanded within her, filling her body and travelling through her veins. Elisabet stood up, her fists balled. "Do you know what I am? I'm fucking angry! You can't just set someone up like that, you can't do that! You can't pretend you like them and then turn around and be an ass like that!" She began walking in circles for something to do. "If you tell me who they are and I ever see any of them, I swear to God they're going to feel more pain than they've ever- _oof_!" It seemed as if her swelled attitude had shrunken her vision; Elisabet marched right onto her newly organized plates and it sent her legs flying outwards and she landed with a 'thunk' on her rear.

"I am not sure which is more ladylike- your grace or your language."

She stared numbly at Javert for a few seconds as he gazed at her coolly before she burst into laughter, holding her feet and rocking back and forth. In her gleeful fit, she did not notice, nor would she ever know about, Javert, who gazed at her with a small, unsure smile.

* * *

The sound of a door slamming open cut her laughter short.

"Ho there, Madame Shopkeep!" a voice called from below. Javert watched Lilybet pop up and sprint downstairs, her brown mane flying behind her. He shook himself and stood, gathering the fallen tableware and placing it in her sink.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" he heard her exclaim below. His curiosity overtook him and he walked downstairs, standing just high enough on the steps when he could see what was going on but he would remain hidden. It would not do if he was found sitting alone at home with Lilybet. Javert watched as she squeezed the hands of a man and two women, all looking to be around her age.

"You haven't come to the café in weeks! What's going on?" a blonde woman asked.

Javert knew why. He knew it was because she was afraid to be outside at night after what had almost happened to her… just like when he first met her.

"Oh, you know, work." He heard her dismiss instead.

"I keep telling you, just settle down! Let a man run this shop and you and I can sit about and gossip! How old are you now, twenty-five? Time's running out, darling." a woman with dark brown hair added.

The man in the group chimed in, "I'm still on the market" accompanied by a cocky but well-meaning grin. Javert stiffened.

"You'd have to pay _me _the dowry for that" Lilybet shook her head and laughed.

"Who's here with you?" the brunette woman asked, suddenly interested.

"No one." Lilybet said quickly, but forgetting herself when she glanced up the stairs.

"Liar!"

"I was having lunch! Just a friend, it's none of your concern!"

"Ohhh a suitor friend?"

"Of course not! Why are you here anyway? What was it you wanted?"

The man stepped forward. "As you may remember, it is my birthday in three days' time. Seeing as I'm going to the country to visit my mother then, I didn't want to leave without a proper send off. Come to the café tonight! Drink a little, have some fun."

Javert saw Lilybet smile. He wondered if her friends could see the uncertainty that he saw in the smile. "I'm always terrible at keeping track of the time, could one of you come by and get me?"

"I'll be by around seven tonight, then." The blonde obliged.

"Thank you. So do any of you need anything besides my time?"

"Ah, yes," the brunette remembered, "Richard has been coughing more of late, I think he's getting a cold. D'you have anything?"

"Most certainly, I'll go fetch it now." Lilybet went down to the cellar and Javert stood as her business exchange went on.

_No one._

Well, what else did he expect? She probably didn't want to admit that she was having lunch with a police inspector, much less a forty-six year old one who was known through most of Paris for his ruthlessness and severe demeanor.

That was good, he told himself. Why would he want to be seen there? It would not look flattering if it got around that Inspector Javert was cavorting with a young woman, much less one with a wealthy name.

_But he already had been seen._

It could have been plain paranoia, but ever since the girl invaded his office in her quest for soup, Javert could have sworn he would walk in on conversations, only to have them disperse when they took notice of him. Of course, this was normal- Javert knew that were he not there to keep them in check, half his men would stand around and cluck like hens- but the conversations seemed different now.

"He said the woman just talked to him all friendly like-"

"-not bad to look at, either-"

"-soup? What the hell does soup mean?"

"-probably got a mistress-"

Javert hated hearing their meaningless gossip, especially when they assumed he had a mistress. As if he would stoop that low- as if he would demean Lilybet like that… or any woman, for that matter.

He heard the door shut but was so consumed by his thoughts that he did not notice Lilybet until she literally walked into him on the edge of the stairs.

"Oh! Oh wow, I didn't see you there! What are you doing here?" her smile faded when she saw the hint of doubt on Javert's face. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"What should be the matter?" he answered briskly, straightening his uniform to remind himself who he was. "I should be leaving." He walked past her, but she ran up and got in his path again.

"But there's still twenty minutes! What happened to lunch?"

"We finished eating."

"Tell me what's wrong, all I did was go and answer the door for some friends-"

"-and told them that you were alone. I do not wish to make you a liar."

* * *

Damn me, Elisabet thought.

"No, no! I only said that because I thought you wouldn't want me to tell anyone you were here. I know you care about your reputation."

"Yes, I understand." He nodded, looking down.

"Javert." Elisabet put her hand on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes. "At the end of the month all of Paris' high society will see me on your arm. I said I was with a friend, I wasn't lying. You are my friend. Do you really think I'd be embarrassed to tell three people that I made lunch for Inspector Javert? If anything I'd feel important!"

See me on your arm? What kind of a thing is that to say? That sounded so awkward. Idiot. She bit her lip to keep from grimacing at herself. Javert looked at her, his expression unreadable. Elisabet's arm fell limply to her side.

"I forgot my hat." He said simply, turning and walking back up the stairs.

She followed him. "About what you told me before, about the thing that happened to you in the army… was that the only time you've ever done anything with a woman?"

"Yes."

"You've never wanted to?"

He stood silent for a while before answering. "I have more important things to think of."

Elisabet did not miss the sudden quiet. "Just so you know… I mean, if it means anything… if I could help it, I wouldn't have let that happen to you."

"You weren't even born yet."

"Just take the sentiment!"

"Very well, I have taken it."

"Javert!" she said, raising her hands in annoyance. The one thing that always irked her about Javert was how deadpan and emotionless he could get. "I'm trying to show you I care, damn it, now sit down and listen to me."

"I must-"

"-_SIT_." Javert slowly sat, staring at her. Well, what was her next move? She took a deep breath and tried to put her feelings as properly as possible. "I-I don't want to pity you. I know what pity feels like and I hate it too. But I also know what it's like to get embarrassed in front of people. Now, this is nowhere near as bad as yours, but that night when we met, when you found me wandering… I was new in town and I didn't know that I couldn't wear my pants to class. I wore them on the farm all the time. Well, my first day the nuns gave me a talking to in front of the whole class. Then a group of girls pulled me aside and said they thought I was interesting and asked me to their dinner. When I got there they asked me all sorts of questions about my pants and the farm and giggled the whole time. They asked me how often I got mistaken for a boy, what with my 'athletic' structure and pants. It didn't take long for me to realize they were making fun of me, so I stormed out. I know how it feels to be the odd one out."

"You had a choice." He cut in suddenly, his voice gaining a bitter edge. "You chose to behave the way you did. I did nothing my whole life but follow rules and defend them. I was born into a hellhole full of sin, and who I am will follow me wherever I go."

"But it doesn't have to! When I see you, I don't think 'gypsy' or 'freak'. Never. I see my friend, Not-Armand Javert, the man who saved me on many accounts and who understands me better than anyone. How far along in life are those idiots? The prostitute woman is probably still a prostitute. If she didn't want to be with you of her own accord then it's her loss, any woman would be lucky to have you. As for the men- you are Chief Inspector. I can almost guarantee you that they are in lower positions, and if they worked in Paris then they would answer to you. You've lived a good life, not a life of sin. It's paid off so far. I just wish you would realize that you're not alone. There will always be bad people, but good people too. You can trust me. I'm here for you. You told me once that you were scared that there would be no one to mourn you when you're dead. No one to cry for you. Well, if that were to ever, God forbid, happen, you have me. When you're gone I'll be there to remember you and miss you, and you won't be there to try to stop me. Whether you know it or not- whether you want it or not- you have a friend. And if something like what happened were ever to happen to you again, just let me know and I'll use all my strength to make them regret messing with you." Elisabet stood in front of him, panting. Something inside her was itching, telling her that there was more to say. Whether she refused to think of it or couldn't, she did not know, but she remained silent.

"Strength." Javert snorted, finally. Elisabet opened her mouth to angrily retort about how that was the one thing he got from their exchange when she glanced at his face and saw a cocky glint playing in his pale green eyes.

"Hey! I'm stronger than I look, you know! Look!" she flexed. She knew that she was not dainty and petite by any means, but still, Elisabet was let down by the tiny bids that appeared on her arms from the effort.

He raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

"Come on, I'll show you." Elisabet pulled up her chair across from Javert and sat down. She put her elbow on the table and held out her palm to him. When he only stared at her with skeptical confusion, she shook her arm. "Arm wrestle me! I bet I'll give you a run for your money."

"It would be improper for me to accept such an unbalanced challenge."

"Just do this for me."

"I will not indulge your games."

"You're awful."

"Alright."

"Javert?"

"Yes?"

"I'm your friend."

"I- I know."

Elisabet smiled. She wanted to put her hand on his and hold it. She wanted to hug him and tell him everything- but what was everything? What was this feeling that there was something she had to say? She shook her head. It was probably nothing.

Instead, she put her hands on her lap. "If you _do_ want to meet my friends, you're more than welcome to come tonight."

"It is not in my fashion."

Elisabet knew he would say that, so she did not fight it. She also knew that if she fought hard enough, she would get him to at least make an appearance- and how uncomfortable he would be. "Well, if you ever want to meet them, you let me know."

"I have no interest in meeting schoolboys or alley-dwellers."

"…I have friends, you ass."

"I can arrest you for speaking that way to me."

"Oh go ahead, nothing new." When he stared at her, bemused, she continued. "I don't just hang around with schoolboys and the poor. I have real friends my age and, dare I say, status. The ones that just came: the blonde woman is named Renée Massar, her family owns a bakery in the main square, the brunette is Rachel Dreyfuss, she is married to a banker- her parents matched her to him, he's in his fifties and I'm told is almost always away on business, which is probably why she gets to see us so much, and the man…" Wow this looks awful for me, she thought, stuttering.

"What?" Javert asked, confused at the sudden hesitation.

"The man is a recent law school graduate. He hangs around with the boys but he's some six years their senior. His name is… Lesgle Bossuet."

Was it her imagination, or did Javert actually stiffen? He looked down.

"You are seeing him?" Javert asked.

Elisabet replied quickly. "No, I'm not seeing anybody. We're friends, that's all." Something made her try to press further. She gulped. "W-why? Does it matter to you?"

He looked up, his face the calm and cool she was used to. "No, of course not."

"Oh." She said, a little let down.

"You must be careful." Javert said.

"I will" she promised. "If Renee wasn't kind enough to come get me, I wouldn't go."

"You did not tell your friends what happened?"

Elisabet shook her head. "No, I can't possibly."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust them. They are wonderful, but like I said before, I don't let people get close. Like you."

Javert looked a little sad. "I see."

"I must admit, Inspector, having you in my life again has thrown me through quite the loop."

"I apologize."

"No. It's… it's nice, having someone there. Even if I felt like I didn't need it."

"I agree." He said softly, sheepishly.

They sat in silence for a while, neither quite sure what the other meant with their words. It was a comfortable silence, one that told a person that they could tell the other person anything, even if there was nothing to tell. But what was it Elisabet wanted to tell him? That she had thought of him? That she knew some mornings he passed by her shop on his patrol, so she would be out front earlier, sweeping the floors? Or that she picked out five dresses to wear for each of the five days of his little lessons? In a way, she felt like a little school girl again. After the gala in Montreuil su Mer, Elisabet found herself remarkably aware of all of her awkward and unladylike nuances, and she remembered the extended drive to get close to him, to show him that the law was not his only hope for a good life.

"I should be going." Javert finally said, putting on his hat.

"I'll walk you down."

* * *

So she was going to a party with her friends, so what? So it happened to be a party for a man who tried to… to take her, worse yet, unmarried. She was an adult, she could take care of herself. Javert should not care. He knew he should not care.

But it was so soon after what had happened, what if she had a bad reaction? What if she actually went through with it this time? It wasn't just improper, it was a sin.

"I didn't love him", she had said. She had also said she thought she was in love once… was he the man? How many other men did she know that well, besides Everett Martin?

_She knows you well_, a voice said. She told him to his face that she cares about him.

But no. She did not even forgive him yet for leaving long ago. Javert was so much older, so much more solemn and brooding… surely if anyone were to captivate her, they would be youthful and energetic and charming. All the better, Javert thought. He did not have feelings for anyone, nor did he suspect he ever would. Nobody would have feelings for him, either. With so many other sources of pain and headache in life, why would he add a woman to the mix?

Still, he said the same thing of friendship, and here he was, mentoring the girl in the ways of society. He was taking her to the ball. What would people say when they saw him with her?

_What SHOULD they say? Javert had no personal scandals, he did everything he was told, so what if they see him with a beautiful young woman? _

Hold on, when did she suddenly become beautiful? She wasn't beautiful, she wasn't anything. She was the annoying girl who continuously pursued his friendship, she was in Montreuil su Mer, why should anything be different now?

But in her kitchen… Javert had told her about the incident in the barracks- like most other things, he had never told that to anybody. And she did not turn away or reject him, she instead got angry, passionately angry at people who did not exist to Javert anymore. He could not even remember their names. How is it she cared so much? He never did anything in his life worth caring. And Javert told her he cared as well. He told her that he had missed her. What was that moment that passed in the kitchen? He held her arm, she did not pull away- it was stupid, she must have thought he was insane, just staring and holding onto her. Yet she did not pull away; she stared right back.

Why was he getting so riled up over the fact she was going to a party with a former flame? Javert did not like him. He did not know why, but the man gave him a bad feeling, just as Martin had. They were no good for her.

_And you are? _A voice asked.

No, of course not. He felt differently about her than anyone else, that was true, but that was because she was the only person to reach out to him. It was new and strange, yet comforting. It was friendship he felt, nothing else.

…(later)

Night had fallen quickly with no trouble. At ten o'clock, Javert organized his papers and set out the door. He mounted his black destrier and set off at a brisk trot. Javert looked up at the cloudy sky- it would surely rain that night. He breathed in a lungful of cold air and sat tall. He never felt more invincible than when he was riding atop his horse- he truly felt like he was a champion of the law on the swift, strong Oberon.

Maybe I should ride past that café, Javert thought, to make sure all is well there. It was not uncommon for parties to erupt into fights and other disturbances of the peace. He passed the empty street, dark save for merry laughter and light coming from the ABC café. Javert shrugged and rode away.

The gentle sounds of the river Seine provided Javert with peace as he rode past it on his way home. All of his feelings from earlier were being drowned by the running water, clearing his head. Sometimes, he liked to just stand above the water, looking at its restless race to the sea. Its tirelessness reminded him of himself and his pursuit of justice. The river needed no one, it operated alone and was a necessary part of society- before his run in with Lilybet again, Javert thought himself the human twin of the Seine.

_So much for the lone wolf_, his subconscious mocked.

A humming sound invaded his peace. Javert turned and saw a figure humming what sounded like Canon in D, bent low over the railing that separated the street from the river.

"Oh!" the figure softly exclaimed as they temporarily lost their footing. Javert started and urged his horse towards the person. He grabbed the collar of the dress and sharply pulled the person upwards. Brown locks fell about the face that stared up at him in surprise.

"Christ." Javert rolled his eyes and dropped the girl. Of course. Of course the first sign of trouble he would find on an otherwise peaceful day was- judging by her glazed eyes- a drunk Lilybet.

"It's like you have me tagged and tracked!" she exclaimed.

"Go home." Javert said. He turned and continued on his way. He was in no mood for this.

"Come b-b-back and sit a while, Javi!" she called.

"Absolutely not." He replied without turning.

"At least tell me your name!"

"No."

"I'll jump in the river!"

"Damn it all." Javert closed his eyes and swore, turning around. She was again hanging over the railing, laughing this time. He returned and pulled her up again, holding her by the back of her dress. She was not as heavy as he expected.

"Knew I'd get you back, Javi." She grinned.

"Do not call me that."

"What, you?"

"No, the other one."

"Javi? Come now, where's your sense of HUMOR?! Can I be put down now?"

Javert carefully placed her down. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed a little walk."

"It is dark."

"Is it? I didn't notice."

"Go home."

"Where's that again?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Define drunk."

"Stupid child." Javert grumbled.

"Hey! Do- do _not_ call me ch-child! And I won't call you Javi- Javiiiiiii-"

"-enough." he cut across. He had no patience for inebriated people, but then again he could not just leave her here. "Come, before you hurt yourself."

She made to follow him, but stumbled so much that it would take the better part of an hour to walk to her home. Javert wondered how and why she managed to get there.

"Can you not go any faster?" he complained, irritated. Honestly, it was too late for this.

"Sorry I haven't g-got four _legs_."

Javert sighed. He looked at Lilybet, who stared up at him blankly. He knew the only way to get her home and be in bed himself by midnight- he needed his sleep.

"Come up." He hopped off of his horse and helped- or rather, placed- her on the saddle before remounting himself. "Try and hold onto my waist."

"Lesgle and Renee are engaged to be married." She said, her voice thick with alcoholic influence.

"Okay."

"He asked her father and everything."

"Mhm."

"They'll be happy together."

"I do not really care."

Nevertheless, she pushed along with a train of thought that seemed more to herself than anyone else. "And Rachel is newly married. She didn't drink at all tonight, I suspect she's pregnant. How old am I now? Twenty five? _God_, I'll be an old maid in no time. It's not that I'm opposed to getting married, no, I've been approached by a few men in my time, but none stirred me, oh they were handsome, sure, but I didn't feel a connection with them. I didn't trust them. Not like with _you_."

She is drunk, he reminded himself.

She continued on. "Ah but what to do? I'll never be approached by someone like you. I mean, I'm not ugly by any means, but I'm not a stunner either. I'm _nice_… sometimes… but I'm not a saint. I'm not fat, but I'm not petite. I'm so AVERAGE."

"That is not necessarily true." He said softly. Javert immediately regretted letting that thought pass his lips and stiffened, but judging by her continuous speech, he doubted she heard.

"I suppose I'll never get married. Having friends is great, I love it, I love having you, but it's different. I'll be the only one of my friends not married. Well, you aren't either, Javi."

"If you call me that one more time I will be forced to arrest you for failing to cooperate."

"Well then tell me your first name, Monsieur Wide-Hat"

"That is not clever."

"Tellllllll meeeeeeeeeee"

No one had called Javert by his first name since his mother. Then again, nobody cared enough to learn it. He supposed there would be no harm in saying it; on the contrary, he might even feel better after saying it, it was just another secret he was holding in. Besides, she was probably too drunk to remember it, so nothing would be compromised.

"E-Etienne." He choked out. He was right; it felt as if a great rock fell off of the mountain he carried on his shoulders- he was not free of it, but it at least minimized.

"See, was that hard?" she burst into raucous laughter.

"Be quiet." He cut her laughter.

"You know, I would be married already if I listened to my father. He tried to match me with a doctor, a lawyer, a merchant… but I rejected all of them. More people need to marry for love. Lesgle and Renée are marrying for love, I'm sure Rachel is fond of her husband to some extent as well. I thought I was in love once-"

"-You told me this before."

"Wanna know who?!"

"Not particularly." Javert hoped she would not continue.

"I've never felt the same about someone since then. I've told you everything else, HELL, why not tell you this. It's-"

"-Here." Javert said, stopping his horse so abruptly that she slid off, landing on the ground. "Sorry. Are you alright?" How smooth, Javert thought.

He got off of the horse and extended a hand to her.

"Where are we?" she asked in between giggles.

"Your house."

"What a gentleman!" she exclaimed, attempting to clap her hands together but missing.

"Go to bed."

"Okay but you can't come."

"I was not planning on it."

"Good man. A good man you are, good man…" she kept mumbling, her eyes sliding in and out of focus. Javert felt for her key above her door as he had seen her do and found it, unlocking the door.

"Time to go." He said, gently steering her through the door. She turned around quickly.

Before Javert knew what was happening, Lilybet stepped on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his.

He pulled away as if electrified, nonplussed.

"Goodnight and sweet dreams!" she waved before wobbling in and shutting the door, completely normal. Javert heard a 'thunk' soon after.

"I'm okay! I tripped- tripped over the floor!" she called, her voice muffled.

Javert could not say how long he stood there, still unsure of what had happened. His mind focused itself on fighting back any feelings that so much as threatened to spring up, but suddenly, every question and every thought that he admonished himself on ambushed him.

His common sense shook him. _She's drunk_, it said. _Of course she meant nothing by it, it was the alcohol._

This was why Javert never drank. Ever since he was young its effects, even though he did not partake in it himself, have muddled his life- the scars on his back were a testament to that.

His lips burned as though set on fire. Javert put his hand to them to try to cool them.

_Remember that she was drunk. Everything she said she said while drunk._ His common sense began to fight through the ambush, making the world finally stop spinning. Javert was remarkably aware of how alone he was on the empty street, in the darkness. _Remember what you are._

**_Closing Note: Just as a matter of copyright, I did NOT think of the name Etienne- it was the name of Javert in the 1952 version and I found that I really liked the name, so I stuck with it. Thanks so much for reading! Let me know if you like it! :D_**


	25. Chapter 24

Six days later and Javert had so far successfully avoided running into Lilybet. At times, it made him feel silly, juvenile even; then he would remember her giggles and when she put her lips against his… she was so close that he could smell the alcohol on her. It did not count as a kiss, really, he reasoned- she pecked him, if anything, and his own lips drawn tight and thin. But _why_ did she do it?

Oh, right. Drunk.

_"I've never felt the same about someone since then"_

Who? Who was this man that, even in her inebriated state, she still thought of? And why hadn't she told Javert previously? She seemed to tell him everything, why not this?

But he did not want to know. He preferred to keep the creature faceless, a large question mark that mocked him each time he thought of her. What if he was still in Paris? They could meet again, surely. Javert did not know what would happen to him then.

Well, what should happen? She would go off and be happy and be out of his hair. Yet some part of him, he could not tell how large or small, did not want that to happen. It hoped that she would stay in Paris and be his friend. It was weak and it was foolish, but he did not want to lose her again. It was harder to be alone after one tasted friendship. Besides, he found that he could focus on his work more clearly when he knew he had an outlet for his problems that could actually talk back to him, rather than his pillow or his horse. But who was this mystery man?

_Perhaps it's you._

Javert never really did let her finish the sentence.

"Absolutely not." Javert rose and slammed his hand on the desk in frustration. He walked briskly over to the plain looking glass hanging on the wall. The man who looked back at him in the mirror was not the isolated, standalone inspector. His face was full of an insecurity now that he never knew existed, his thoughts consumed by a girl's one drunken act of stupidity. "Look at you," he said harshly, "falling to pieces over a woman you- who has not shown fear since becoming a man- are now turning into a mouse. Why should it be you she feels anything for? You are old, you are harsh. You were born in a gutter, what makes you think that a bourgeoisie girl would stoop so low? Never. Christ, why does it even matter?" He returned to the desk and buried his face in his hands. Javert looked down at the parchment that was his itinerary.

He knew he could delay it no longer. It was time for Lilybet's next scheduled lesson.

On the way there, he wondered suddenly what she was going to do, how she was going to approach him. Would she feel awkward? Or would she try to explain herself? Would she call him by his first name?

Or perhaps she forgot. That was his only hope.

Javert knocked on the door promptly at three o'clock. He hoped that his lightheadedness did not show on his face but then again, he was a master at controlling his emotions. He peered through the window. There looked to be around five people standing in front of the counter and Lilybet was nowhere to be found.

It must be working hours, he thought. The little bell tinkled when Javert swung open the door. The other customers paid him no heed, but the schoolboy at the counter looked at him apprehensively.

"Can I help you, Inspector Javert?" he called. It seemed that his name was getting around Paris after all. Javert shook his head and stood to the side, looking out the window. The boy returned to the counter to help the next customers.

Lilybet ran up from the cellar and flashed a quick, delighted smile at Javert before turning to her patrons. Her hands were full of all kinds of leafy greens and the little urchin- who had gotten himself quite the rambunctious reputation on the streets, as Javert knew firsthand- followed with still more. She called out the names of herbs he did not know and gradually the throng dispersed, holding baskets full of their remedies.

"Phew." She said, leaning her elbows on the counter. The little boy frowned up at Javert. The student cleared his throat. Lilybet looked up at him. "Can I assist you, Monsieur?" Javert stared blankly at her until she laughed. She turned to her assistants. "Bahorel, like I said before, I'll need you to take over for the next couple of hours. Gavroche, you are free to go."

"He's not arresting you again, he?" the little one asked defensively, never taking his eyes off of Javert.

Her face turned slightly pink. "No! Of course not- he- go, Gavroche. Here." She placed a coin in his hand and the boy turned and marched out, not before glaring at Javert. What had he ever done to him? True, he had reprimanded the boy a few times but that was in the name of the law. He never understood why Lilybet let him hang around. He had a shifty air that Javert mistrusted. It was very possible that he may have stolen an item or two from her.

"Bahorel, I will be back at five to take over again. If anything I will be upstairs. The Inspector and I have business to attend to."

"Enjoy yourself, Madame."

She smacked him on the shoulder before telling Javert to follow her up the stairs. Well, she certainly was not acting differently.

"It was table manners today, right?" she asked him.

Javert cleared his throat. "Yes."

"I set my table up to look fancy and whatnot."

When they reached her kitchen, Javert observed her best efforts. The little round table had two chairs sitting on opposite ends. On each table setting sat a large plate and a smaller plate on top of it. To the sides were three forks of varying sizes, two spoons, and two knives.

"So what do you think?" she asked brightly.

"Very nice," he said, walking around the table, "but unfortunately you will not be asked to set places at the ball."

She folded her arms and looked at him sheepishly. "Well I thought it was a nice gesture."

"We will begin. Place the chairs closer together; we will be sitting side by side." When she did as she was instructed, Javert stood by her. "Now, I am going to pull out your chair." She followed each of his instructions accordingly and the lesson went swimmingly, the only casualty being a champagne glass that she had flipped over on herself when Javert was trying to get her to hold it properly.

"No no no, you hold it on the _stem_, not the actual cup." He said for the third time.

"Who will actually notice?!"

"Everyone."

"They won't care!"

"They will judge your lack of etiquette."

"I don't care."

"I am doing this for your benefit so that you do not get embarrassed."

"Actually you're doing this for _your _benefit so that _you _don't get embarrassed next to me." Javert had to admit that on some level, she was right. But he was not in the mood to quarrel with her. Instead, he looked her determinedly in the eye, grabbed hold of her wrist with one hand, took the glass out of her hand with the other, and firmly wrapped her fingers around the stem. Lilybet frowned at the glass for a while before looking up at him. "Do you really want me to go?"

"Pardon?"

"I asked do you really want me to go with you. I mean yeah I'd like to go and everything, but you never would have invited me if it hadn't been for your boss. If- if you don't actually want me to go, let me know. I won't and I won't get offended by it."

Javert thought on how to best approach the subject. In truth, he was even getting a bit excited at the prospect of not showing up alone again. Maybe people would have other things to talk about then other than expressing wonder and resentment at a rank-climbing gypsy bastard in their midst.

"I only did not tell you because I was not planning on attending."

"You're Chief Inspector, don't you have to attend?"

"I have had to every year prior to this, but this is only my second year in Paris, I never dreamed I would be up for any sort of promotion, so I decided to go on duty this year."

"On duty on Christmas?!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I would rather that than attend a ball where I am of no use to anybody."

"Well, now you're of use to me!" she said, smiling softly. What did _that_ mean? She turned pink at his perplexed look and rushed forward. "What I meant is, ah, these lessons, I need you here for these… these lessons…" she murmured and looked down again. "Thank you for inviting me. I know you could have easily rescinded the invitation and told him I was sick or something."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you don't want to bring me."

"Of course I want to bring you. If I must attend, why not have a friend to suffer it along with me?" How did that come out? Suffer? He should not have said suffer, then she would rethink going…

Instead, she laughed. "What else are friends for?" she asked.

The rest of the lesson passed without any major issues, aside from her occasional snarky comments and stubborn tomfoolery- nothing Javert could not handle. But still, no mention of the kiss or the love interest. Not even anything on her friends getting married. Javert wondered if she would have told him that if she was not drunk. Perhaps she told him less than he thought?

After she walked him out her door, Javert rode away, thinking of nothing but the flower in his pocket. He looked back and saw her outside, leaning against the wall of her shop, just watching him ride away in the winter sunset. Did she do this every time he left?

Javert could not take it any longer. He had so many questions, so many answers beyond his reach. What he did know, at least, was that this went deeper than he originally thought. There was only one place he could go, one safe haven where he could seek repentance for his weakness where he would not be judged.

* * *

The wooden box smelled of must, the only source of light coming from the little fenced window that separated the two booths.

"What do you need, my son?" the voice that came from the other side was an old, thoughtful one, full of wisdom and age. Though Javert did not see his face through the confession booth, he recognized the voice of Notre Dame's bishop from the services he attended every Sunday.

"Father, I come seeking your help. It… it is an issue I have never faced before, and it has left me weak and confused."

"I see." The voice encouraged.

Javert swallowed dry air and continued. "I have been… all my life, I have been following orders. Rules, orders that have been established by both God and man. I am a devout Catholic, Father, so I do not understand why these demons plague me so. I have been strong willed and alone all my life. I did not want nor need any form of friendship or companionship. Ten years ago I was in a town and I met a girl… such a strange child, she was. Impulsive and naïve and idealistic; and for some reason, she believed I needed a friend. She latched onto me and tried to force friendship at every turn. She saved my life once, Father. I was bloodied and she carried me to a church and tended to my wounds, and I am at least a third larger than her! Gradually I became aware that the wall I had built to keep myself from society was crumbling. I had grown weak. But I did not fight it. I let it go on and even… even became friends with her. I felt closer to her than to anyone, and yet we are so different. Then I left. I just left. I cut off all contact. I felt it would be the best thing. I was growing too attached to her and she to me. She needed to move on and find a 'happily ever after' she had been telling me about so often. I had grown weak. Three times I had almost bent the code of law I have lived by all my life because of her. I had begun to care and it would be my downfall, if not hers. She sent me letters and I ignored them. The only reminder I kept was a little flower clip she gave me when I left. I still have it now.

I thought it was finished. I thought my life was back to the way it was, the way it was destined to be. But a little over a month ago, I found her again. After a brief meeting, I did not know what was happening to me. I tried to stay away from her again but I just kept running into her as if some demon was playing a cruel trick. My defenses are falling again, Father. She says she has not forgiven me for leaving. I… I think I _want_ her forgiveness. I gave her my friendship again but it is different now. I think of her more often than is healthy. I think of her in- in- in _shameful_ ways."

"What shameful ways do you speak of?"

"Well… kissing her. Holding her hand, even."

"That is not shameful, my son-"

"-_it is._ It is for me. I was born awash in sin, and I fear that no amount of goodness can ever completely wash it away. I was living a life of good and she now makes me feel differently about myself. I remember that I am not good. She, however… she works hard and goes on believing the best, trusting in people. I do not want her to trust in me, I will let her down. I do not know why I care so much. I do not know why I get these feelings. I do not want them. I do not need them. I should leave, I know. I am weak and accepted friendship. I feel my heart of stone cracking. I cannot leave again. I left her the first time and hurt her more than I knew. I hurt myself. I cannot bring myself to be strong and good enough to do it again."

Javert leaned his head against the back wall and closed his eyes. He raised one arm and wiped the sweat from his brow. If the holy man could tell him nothing, then at least he was able to get everything out into the open.

Finally, the bishop spoke. "I see no sin in this." He said slowly.

Javert sat bolt upright again. "What? How can that be?" If a priest could not help him, then who possible could?

"My son… I believe you are in a complex, terrifying, wonderful thing called love."

* * *

**_Closing Note: This chapter is short, I know, but I had to work it in! Hope y'all don't mind the sweet tooth that's been going on (and will likely extend to the next few chapters) I'm really glad you guys really like this, I love making people happy and if this makes you smile in any way then all of this late-night writing is worth it. Just a heads up, the next chapter's a biggie so it likely will take anywhere from 3 days to a week to do. Thanks for reading and let me know if you liked it! :D_**


	26. Chapter 25

**_Author's Note: This is kind of the first part of the chapter, but it was going to be so long that I decided to cut it in half. The remainder of it should be coming relatively soon (Monday by the latest). I won't name it "Chapter 25 Part II" though because I have enough confusion because of the other two-part chapter, so it'll be Chapter 26. Just warning! Okay, thanks for reading, let me know if you guys like it! :)_**

* * *

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Bring me my sword belt, Sophie, and then alert me when the carriage arrives."

"Very good, sir." The good-natured crone shuffled out of the room. It seemed that though the government shifted his setting, house, and position, the servants they equipped him with were all the same old women- in fact, Javert would have assumed that it was the same woman following him if their names had not changed. The thought made him give a humorless chuckle.

Javert stood in his sitting room, pacing occasionally for lack of occupation. He could not bring himself to look in a mirror; it would only serve to irritate his nerves. He did not even _want _to go to the damn thing, so why was he so nervous?

Normally he would simply saddle his horse and ride him to the Palais-Royal, but bringing Lilybet had complicated things. It would not do for her to be seen riding his horse with him, and providing a police horse for her was strictly forbidden, so Javert had been forced to hire a carriage for them. He hated carriages; it made him feel strange to be chauffeured around, a luxury he felt neither entitled nor welcome to. Nevertheless, it was what was expected and what was best.

After his experience in the confession booth, Javert found himself so muddled that he felt sick to the point that he had to pull himself out of the patrol rotation the next day because he did not feel he would perform well.

"I love her." He said to himself aloud. It felt more real when he heard his voice ringing in his ears, the words foreign and intimidating on his tongue. He felt freed of mystery and confusion but lost as to what to do. He knew that he could not go to her and tell her; what would she say? She could have told him that she could never feel the same or worse, laugh at him. He could not go through the courting process- he was too old for that nonsense. She had told him so many times that he was her friend that he could not have possibly been considered anything else. Lilybet was young and beautiful and Javert was old and tired.

Still, in the days that followed he would make a point to ride by her shop more often. She would nearly always be in the front sweeping, placing her luckily right within Javert's sight. He would catch her eye and nod to her: it wasn't much, but it was something. When he went for her final lesson, she was so eager and excited that Javert got quite happy; though he could not show it. If anything, he was quieter and colder towards her for lack of a better approach.

In the few times he saw her between then and now she made no mention of his first name or the kiss. It hurt him a little bit, that she could forget so easily. It was nothing but a drunken act of insanity. Javert assumed that she did not remember; he was better off forgetting it as well.

Deep down he knew that there was nothing he really could do. If she was to be seen in public that way with him, people would talk- her shop might even lose some of its patronage. And if she somehow returned his feelings, what then? Javert belonged to the law. He always would. What if he had to choose between her and his work again? What if he had to go away? Javert knew what he would choose, and either way he would lose. He could hurt her. He did not want to hurt anybody innocent. One way or another, one of them would end up let down by the other; and if he looked into her eyes and saw that hurt, betrayed look and knew that he was the cause, it may kill him.

The sad thing for Javert was that these feelings were not new; they had always plagued him ever since he allowed someone to get close to him. Only now, they seemed magnified tenfold.

"The carriage is outside, sir."

"Thank you, Sophie."

Javert shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was thinking too far ahead. This was Lilybet, who was his friend, nothing more. She would never be anything more. He got duped into taking her to the Christmas Ball at the Palais-Royal. And his carriage was outside.

He looked down at his uniform and straightened a few final bits and pieces before heading out the door.

* * *

Renee sat and watched as Elisabet ran around her flat like a frantic, half-dressed chicken.

"You've only got about half an hour, you know." The blonde said.

"Shut up and help me find my damn corset!"

"I told you, check your closet. I don't think you brought it out. You're lucky I even got here on Christmas."

"Ugh! Okay okay." Elisabet shuffled into her room. A moment later, her friend heard a sheepish "Found it" coming from where the closet was. She ran back into the room and struggled for breath as her friend tied the corset around her waist. "I think I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers."

"Want me to make it looser?"

"No, leave it."

"If you say so."

Twenty minutes later, Elisabet stood and looked at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side. Her dress was a soft yellow with white frills at the bottom and little red polka dots on it. It cost her a fortune, but gave her a sort of confidence to know that this dress was made for her and that there was no other like it. She thought she looked quite sophisticated in it. Her honey brown locks were pinned half up-half down, the bulk of them cascading down her back.

"Do I look okay?" she asked nervously.

"You look great! I just don't see why the Inspector."

"He's my friend!" she said defensively.

"Yeah, I don't fret half this much when I see my friends." Renee raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"No, it's not like that!"

"Sure it's not."

"You've seen him before! Do you honestly think I could make him interested?"

"I don't think a woman baring her naked breasts in front of him would make that man interested."

"Oh, stop! I keep telling you guys, he's got feelings. He's smart, witty when he wants to be, kind, strong, and he can be so gentlemanly and thoughtful…"

"I don't see it."

"Nothing to see!" Elisabet did not mean to shout, but she was sure that her friend noticed how red she felt in the face when she thought about Javert. She was nervous, but also excited. She hoped Javert thought she looked good enough. She hoped people would tell him she looked lovely- but then how would he respond to that? The past week, he seemed to act so much more distant to her. When she spoke to him, he would only respond simply. He would not carry conversations. What had she done to him? It worried her even now to think about. Maybe he rethought taking her, he was just doing it to be nice now. He didn't actually want to go with her.

Or maybe, she thought, terrified, he knew how she thought of him sometimes. He caught on to all the nice dresses she wore when she saw him and her constant attempts to impress him. Maybe he thought she fancied him, and was repulsed. Of course he would be repulsed.

Stop it, she told herself. There is nothing you can do about it now. You don't look repulsive, you look great. You know how to talk and act. You know-

"Someone's at the door." Renee said, looking out the window. She was right; there was a horse drawn carriage right outside. A moment later, she heard a knock on the door.

"Ahhh, here, take my key. Don't leave yet it would look weird that you were here with me."

"Why would it look weird?"

"I don't know! Just- just here, take it and leave in a few minutes, okay, thanks!"

Elisabet quickly fumbled into a hug with her friend.

"You look beautiful, darling." Renee encouraged. With a hasty nod and smile, Elisabet ran down the stairs as fast as her outfit allowed.

Any breath she had regained from her stair-sprint was lost when Elisabet opened the door. Javert bowed to her without a word. She looked him up and down- he was dressed in all black with a red sash going across his torso. His uniform was adorned with gold epaulettes, a single medal, and his sword belt was adorned with gold and the national colors. He looked like a real gentleman. At that moment, Elisabet truly believed that Javert was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She was only half aware of the fact that she was staring at him like a gaping idiot.

_"Wow"_, they both thought, each not wanting to admit it to the other.

And so they stood for who-knows-how-long in silence, staring at one another numbly.

It was he who broke the silence first, blinking out of his reverie. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"I may am I ready yes" She felt her face grow hot once more. Javert just looked at her, his pale green eyes regarding her coolly and, behind that, maybe even nervously.

"Erm, shall we?" he offered his arm and she took it timidly. Once in the carriage, she buried her face in her hands. What was happening to her? All that planning and hard work just to become a stuttering idiot. Every time she looked over at Javert she was filled with a rush of emotion. He sat on the other side of the carriage, his back stiff and his hands on his knees. She felt a sense of pride, first off, that this handsome officer was her date. Second, she felt a sense of determination: Javert must have taken so long to get dressed like this, she wanted to make his night worth it. Lastly, she felt a small sense of despair that he was her friend, and nothing else.

"H-how long will the ride be?" was all she said.

"About fifteen minutes." He answered, looking out the window. Even now he acted distant. "You remember everything I taught you?"

"Everything." She nodded.

"Good."

"Are you regretting this?" she asked suddenly. She had to know.

For the first time, Javert looked at her. He blinked in surprise, like he didn't even notice his cold behavior. He blinked. "No, why?"

"You just seem… I don't know." Elisabet shrugged. Maybe it was just her.

"I must admit, I was not sure how tonight would go, but now I... I trust you will not-"

"-embarrass you?"

Javert snorted. "Yes, to put it bluntly."

Elisabet grinned at him. "Not so fast, it's a long night and I'll have plenty of opportunities."

His eyes widened. "Do not dare-"

"-calm down, you know I won't. Just enjoy yourself." She took his hand and squeezed it. Javert looked down at her hand on his and looked back up blankly. Elissabet quickly moved her hand to her lap. Wow, that was awkward of me, she thought. Doing stupid things and I'm not even at the ball yet.

"We are here." He announced after the silence of the rest of the ride. She looked out the window at the other carriages arriving and all of the servants in their powdered wigs, France's finest walking and laughing.

"I'm not going out." A sudden fear overcame her. She retreated to the other side of the carriage and hugged herself, staring outside. "I can't go, I can't do it."

Javert blinked in confusion. "What? Why not?"

Her breath shortened as reality came crashing down around her. "I'm scared. I'm not sophisticated or refined. I'm going to mess up and I'll embarrass you. I don't belong here, I don't act as well as them, I don't look as good as them-"

"-you look beautiful." He said, staring at her apprehensively. Of all the things to say, she did not expect that. It seemed that he didn't expect it either. Javert looked down at his lap, then out the window, then straight ahead… pretty much everywhere besides at Elisabet.

"Really?"

"I would tell you if you did not."

"Th-thank you."

"Just remember what I taught you and you will be fine." The carriage stopped in the front and a brightly clad servant opened the door. Javert looked at her and gave a determined nod. "Come." He slid out of the carriage and offered Elisabet his hand to help her down. She closed her eyes and took a lungful of cold air. It was just another party, she told herself. Just another night out.

"Do you know who all these people are?" she whispered as they walked through one of the grand arches. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she took the scene in.

"Most of them."

"Can you tell me?"

And so Elisabet was able to occupy her mind for a bit as she and Javert walked through the alabaster halls. She hugged herself to keep her from shivering with anxiety, turning wherever Javert indicated to see some colonel or noble chatting and drinking wine.

She was shaken out of her shell when Javert stopped short. "Take my arm." He commanded. She did as she was told, looking around alertly. He looked down at her. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, raising her chin, straightening her back, and positioning herself like a lady. "As I'll ever be." She stopped again after the first step as a thought hit her. Elisabet looked up at Javert, alarmed. "They aren't going to announce us are they?"

He shook his head. "I am not nearly that important. That is reserved for generals and nobility. But be prepared for some stares. They love a chance to gossip."

"What would we possibly give them to gossip about?" she asked, very well knowing the answer.

Javert shrugged. "They always find something, these people. Particularly for someone like me."

"Don't say-"

"Quiet." He elbowed her in the rib as they started descending the grand staircase. Elisabet kept her head up, but her eyes moved wildly from side to side trying to see anything she can. When they finally took the last step, she looked around. Indeed, some people who knew Javert by sight were looking over curiously, whispering to their companions. Elisabet gave them a haughty glance and pulled her arm tighter around Javert's. She looked at his face, now a mask of cool politeness.

"Merry Christmas, Inspector." A man walked up to Javert. Oh, right, Elisabet thought, it's Christmas.

"Elisabet Barbier, Monsieur" she curstseyed when it had come time for her to introduce herself. The men began conversing about duties and other things that failed to capture her interest. Not once did he turn and speak to her. It happened several more times before a trumpet blared.

"The important guests are arriving." Javert pulled Elisabet by the elbow to the crowd amassing on the sidelines as the procession of France's finest began their roll call.

"The Baron and Baroness of Bourbon." The voice called. Elisabet looked up. There, floating down the steps, was a figure of willowy grace and beauty. Her cousin had not changed in the five years since Elisabet saw her last; Clarice's red mane cascaded down her shoulder and her porcelain skin was complemented by a blue dress. She turned and her eyes met Elisabet's. If she did not know her, she would simply assume this was a chance contact- however, she knew her cousin, and she had recognized Elisabet.

"_Crap_" she whispered, looking up. She regained her poise when Javert's elbow made contact with her side once again. She was almost positive that he gave her his arm not out of kindness, but out of easy control. It was subtle, she had to give him that.

When they all arrived, Javert stood mute, approaching nobody but a few key people that it was expected of him to speak to. Elisabet looked up at him. Though his face was tranquil and emotionless, his eyes had a distant sort of loneliness. She thought of him if he were on duty right now, riding his horse through the streets on his own while merriness and laughter happened all around him. Even if he said he would rather be there than here, she silently promised herself that she would make him change his mind.

"Goodness me, I cannot believe my eyes!" the musical voice made Elisabet cringe before she slowly turned around.

She plastered on what was perhaps her most difficult smile. "Baroness, it is lovely to see you." She curtseyed.

"Oh look at her, like she doesn't remember her own cousin! Darling, I would like you to meet my cousin, Lilybet. I haven't seen her in at least five years!"

Elisabet turned mechanically to the nobleman and curtseyed. "Elisabet Barbier, my lord. It is an honor to meet you."

"Charmed." He commented, clearly bored. He looked around casually and strolled away to speak with one of the princes.

Clarice turned back to her eagerly. "Oh, dear, what _ever_ are you doing here? You should have told me you were coming, you must come by the estate some day soon and we will catch up! You're not boorish enough to be here alone, I trust?"

"I wouldn't get in if I was alone."

"Oh," Clarice looked down uncomfortably at the realization of the difference in position. She glanced at Javert with renewed interest. "_Ohhh_ but it cannot be! Inspector _Javert_?"

Javert turned to Clarice and gave a low bow. "My lady." He kissed her hand.

"Do you not remember me?"

"I do, my lady. How have you been?"

"Grand, just grand! Are you working security for the ball?"

Elisabet grabbed his arm protectively, saying in the sweetest voice possible, "The _Chief Inspector _is a guest of the Prefect. He brought me with him out of kindness."

"Are you really, Inspector? How splendid." The baroness looked down at Elisabet but spoke to Javert. "You would not mind if stole my baby cousin for a bit, would you?"

Elisabet stepped closer to him. "That is kind but I don't think-"

"-not at all." Javert slightly shoved her forward and stepped back.

Elisabet looked back at him pleadingly and he shot her a warning look. She sighed and turned to her cousin. Why did I agree to do everything he says, she wondered.

"Dear, I must be honest, I knew you had your little crush when you were young but I didn't know it would turn into this!" Clarice looked down on her with pity. "You went to University, you could have married so much higher-"

"-I'm not married to him!" she said incredulously. "What do you mean higher? He's the Chief Inspector!"

"Yes but remember _what _he is. Everyone in your old town knew he was a gypsy, it won't be long before it gets around here and you will be looked down upon for being associated with him. You have a good name! I know some bachelor friends of my husband's, how old are you now, twenty? Twenty-one? A little old but I can find something-"

"-Clarice!" Elisabet said it much louder than she meant. She immediately turned red and tried to cover it up. "I- I apologize for raising my voice. But, cousin, I do not need your help."

Clarice smiled knowingly. "Why? Does little Lilybet already have a suitor?"

"I-"

"-it _is _Javert, isn't it? You are unmarried but he is courting you! Oh don't try to cover it up, your cousin is smarter than that. Why? He's so _bland_. It would be alright if he was high in society but he's just a social-climber."

Forget social training. She would not stand for Javert being talked about that way. Again, Elisabet started loudly. "Well _I _think that he's very interesting, handsome, smart, and worth ten of any man you could possibly show me!"

She cocked her head to the side and pouted at Elisabet. "Poor dear, how blind love makes you-"

"-no, what? Love, no-"

"-well, I see your stubbornness has not left you. I can at least introduce you to my friends. Come on, let's have fun!"

And so Elisabet spent the next half hour being whirl winded by Paris's elite and clucked over like a novelty toy- 'Clarice's middle-class baby cousin'. She smiled, she curtseyed, she answered questions, but not much else. When she was thoroughly at the end of her rope, she turned to the group of ladies and smiled glassily. "I believe the Inspector will be wondering where I have gone. It was an honor to meet you all, have a good evening." As she was walking away, she caught snippets of what they said.

"How adorable she is!"

"Not much of a personality though, Clarice."

"Who's the Inspector?!"

"Her fiancé" Clarice's voice drifted. Elisabet, now fuming, pushed forward through the sea of people.

"Hello." The deep voice behind her made her jump.

"Where did you even come from?!" she asked Javert.

"I felt the need to keep my eye on you."

Elisabet turned red when she remembered the defense of her friend. "You- you didn't listen in on my conversations, did you?"

"I was not _following_ you. I only looked to see where you were."

"Good."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Hey, why's everyone sitting?"

"It appears they are beginning the first course. Come." They went to their place along with the other near-hundred guests. Conveniently for Javert, their seats were right near the Paris Prefect and his wife, to whom Elisabet was introduced. As the food was served, Elisabet watched the two men begin to talk of the business of a promotion. Meanwhile, she picked at each passing little course while existing in her own little world. Javert was going to get what he wanted, so why wasn't she happy for him?

Yes, he's always wanted to be Prefect and this would mean his dream- but would it really make him happier? It would only pull Javert closer to his black and white world, suck him further away from…from what?

_From you?_

No! But even so, if his job caused him to leave, she knew that he would do it again. He knew it hurt her, but at the end of the day the law was his life. She thought that she could make a difference once, but he didn't care about her enough for that. Not in _that_ way, at least. Elisabet did not want to change Javert as a person, not at all- she wanted to show him that he was not alone, that the law was not all he had to depend on. He could depend on her. And she was only worried that this job could make him fall deeper into his cavern; the law wasn't a life preserver, it was the ocean, and he was slowly drowning in it.

"Oh, I find these events so dreadfully boring, don't you, dear?" Elisabet snapped out of her reverie and blinked at the good-natured older woman, Madame Vipond.

Elisabet shrugged. "It isn't my first choice of how to spend Christmas, but it is interesting."

"Is this your first event like this?"

"No, when I was younger I used to always go to them with my father, he was a wealthy merchant in Montreuil su Mer. Since he died I haven't gone to any."

"Well for you then they're still fresh. When you get to be my age, they all seem to blend together. I hear you are a relation of the royal family?"

She blushed at that. "Not really, my cousin is Baroness of Bourbon. But we aren't close."

"I see." The woman nodded thoughtfully, picking at her salad. "So what are your plans with the Inspector?"

Elisabet choked on a lettuce leaf, trying to make her sputtering as ladylike as possible. "Pardon?"

"No need for excess modesty, dear. I was with my husband in the market place when he presented you those flowers on one knee. Are you still in courtship or are there wedding plans?"

Good God, Elisabet thought, looking down at her plate and flexing her hands nervously. "Ahhh, things are just… happening so fast!"

Madame Vipond, mistaking her nervousness of the misunderstanding for nervousness of relationship, patted her hand gently. "Not to worry, Mademoiselle-"

"-Lilybet. People call me Lilybet." She gave her a small smile. Whatever else, Elisabet found that she quite liked the old woman.

"Very well, Lilybet. As I was saying, not to worry. I've been around, and I have been noticing you tonight, how you look at him and hold his arm. How when you went off with your cousin, he stared after you. With love like that, things always work themselves out."

Elisabet felt as if she was hit over the head with a cudgel. She looked over at Javert, now speaking with no one, but only sitting solemnly and taking sips of his water, staring emotionlessly forward. She looked back at the woman.

"I-I-I-"

The woman smiled and patted her hands again before turning to another acquaintance. Elisabet shook her head and bent to her food. Suddenly, the orchestra began to play. People were getting up and soon, Elisabet and Javert were among the only people sitting down. She looked up at him and smiled. When he didn't seem to take any notice of her, she put her hand gently on his arm. He looked down as if startled.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked tentatively.

Javert shrugged and looked at his lap. "It is a regular ball."

"How did the talk about your promotion go?"

"Hopefully satisfactory."

Elisabet nodded and went back to picking at her food. What was wrong? What did she do?

She tried again. "Do you maybe want to dance?"

"No."

"Okay."

Monsieur Vipond broke out of the mob on the floor. "Mademoiselle! I'm afraid I did not get a chance to say good evening!"

She smiled at him, holding her hand out. "So you did not. Good evening and Merry Christmas, Monsieur Prefect."

"Will you come join me for a dance?" He extended his arm. Elisabet bit her lip and looked at Javert.

"Well, I don't think it would be good of me to leave the Inspector on his own-"

"Oh, Javert is always a wallflower. He won't mind, would you?"

"Not at all, sir." He said to him. He looked at Elisabet, his face careful except for the imploring eyes that he fixed on her. She supposed that he wanted to use her to make a good impression on the man. He gave her a small nod and mouthed "go".

Whatever it takes to make him happy, she decided. "In that case, I would be honored, Monsieur." She got up and halfheartedly made her way onto the dance floor. From then, she passed hands on the dance floor more times than a baby on its first birthday. Elisabet could not tell how much time had passed or the names of the men she danced with; only that when she was finally let go, her feet throbbed and she felt a thin sheet of sweat on her face. She glanced over at the table. Javert was not there.

She scanned the room; he seemed to be absent. Then, a sudden thought came to her. She went over to one of the servers.

"Excuse me, is there a balcony or garden somewhere here?"

"Yes, Madame, there is a terrace straight down that hall. However I must warn you, it is quite cold outside."

"That's alright, thank you." Elisabet walked as quickly as she could down the indicated path. Sure enough, there he stood at the edge of the terrace, looking up into the sky.

"Good evening, Monsieur Inspector." She curtseyed and grinned. Javert turned around and looked at her briefly before turning back to the sky.

"It is cold out here, you should go back inside."

"Only if you come with me."

"No… I do not belong there. They all know that as well as I do."

"Yes you do! You were invited, weren't you?"

"They invited the position, not the man."

"Well, why don't you try and talk to anyone? Have a genuine conversation? Dance?"

Javert looked at her incredulously. "Wherever I go my past gets there first. Do you think they do not know what I am? Social-climber, they call me. Gypsy Inspector, they call me. They invite me just as a master gives his watchdog a table scrap. It is a job entitlement and nothing more. I go because it is expected of me, but I do not enjoy standing around and listening to them speak about me. It is peaceful out here. I sit with the stars and I enjoy their silent company."

She took a step closer to him. "I was there, you could've talked to me-"

"-while you were cavorting with duchesses or waltzing with nobility?"

"You made me do that!" No, he wasn't going to blame her for that. "I didn't want to, I wanted to stay with you! You made me go just so that I wouldn't embarrass you by being rude! I came to have fun with you."

"I apologize that I was not the Prince Charming you hoped would escort you to the ball."

"What the hell is your problem, Javert?! All night- all _week_- you've been acting like this. What did I do to you?!"

He sighed and turned his back to her again. "You would not understand. I am sorry."

"I'm not a child anymore, Javert."

"I know."

"What is it with you?" though pressing, her voice was gentler now. "Tell me. It's Christmas and you almost went on patrol before someone _forced _you to celebrate. Why is that?"

"I… I am not a fan of this particular holiday."

"Why not?"

"Bad experiences."

She stood right by him now, putting her hand on his shoulder and looking up into his face. "Tell me."

"Well, first, it is my birthday-"

"-happy birth-"

"-_second_… well, as a child, I found that people were always cruelest on Christmas. The guards bragged about going home to their families and the convicts were extra irritable because of what they knew they were missing. I always used it to pray, I knew it was a holy day. I learned what it meant to the rest of the world when I was sixteen. I knew it was my birthday, and I thought that it was a cruel twist of fate that I was born on the same day as our savior. I did not know if it was because it was my birthday or because the men were bitter, but it seemed to me that I always got beaten extra hard on Christmas."

Elisabet stared, open mouthed at him. "S-so, how old are you?" was all she could choke out.

"Forty-seven."

She turned him lightly so that he would fully face her. "I didn't know, I'm sorry. Really. But… can you let me do something?"

"What?"

"Let me show you that it's not all bad. It's in the past. Let me give you a great birthday and a great Christmas."

"It is far too late."

"Well we'll have a make up day!" She smiled hopefully up at him. Elisabet realized suddenly that her hand had traveled up to his shoulder. She pulled away and took a step back, coughing awkwardly.

Javert turned back to the balcony. "I could not ask you to do that."

"You're not asking me. I'm asking you. Please, Javert, you're my best friend. Let me do this for you."

"I- I do not approve of it." He said, clearing his throat. Elisabet smiled to herself. For Javert, that was as close to a yes as she was going to get. She stood by him, leaning on him slightly. She shivered when a gust of wind rushed by. "You are cold. Go inside."

"Only if you come with me."

"No, I am afraid I cannot. Who am I to pretend I belong in that world?"

"They can't dictate where you belong."

"But they do."

"It's all bullshit, you know that. Have you heard the rumor about us?"

"That we are engaged?"

"Yeah."

"I apologize greatly for that."

"Why would you apologize? That isn't a bad rumor! It's- ahhh, well, it's okay. I don't care what people say." She was glad for the cover of darkness; otherwise Javert would have seen her face turn beet red. In truth, she briefly enjoyed the feeling of being known as an engaged woman; if anything, it at least got Clarice and her host of men off of her back. As if those men would be interested in her!

A few times she even turned towards Javert and thought of what it would be like to have a handsome, brave fiancé… before she remembered that they were rumors, nothing more.

_With love like that._

Elisabet could not let it happen again, that much she knew. He didn't care for her in that way, and if she cared too much she would only get hurt again. That was something she could not afford.

"You know, I'm getting tired." She said thoughtfully. "What about you?"

"I usually leave myself around this time. I can call the carriage whenever you wish."

"We can go now."

"I do not want to deprive you of your fun."

"Fun? You call being gossiped about by my perfect cousin fun? The whole thing's like one of your lessons, but longer! Being out here with you has been the best part of the evening."

To her surprise, Javert seemed to brighten just a bit. "It has?"

"Of course. Come on, let's go."

With a final glance at the lighted, festive streets of Paris, Elisabet and Javert turned around and made their way outside, a feeling of intense satisfaction and anxiety hovering about them. Though neither spoke, they both felt the night to be unfinished.

Even when he helped her into the carriage, Javert had a feeling that something important was supposed to happen- but no. He should have known better. It was just another Christmas, another year towards shriveling and fading into nothing, another night of unfinished disappointment.

The one positive he could find was, in fact, the gossip. Despite himself, he enjoyed the surprise of Javert appearing with a woman on his arm and was filled with a queer sort of pride when he heard their surprised declarations of her comeliness. It was a shadow of the life he could have had.

A life he would never have.


	27. Chapter 26

**_Author's Note: Happy Easter everyone, here's some fluff. I regret nothing. Hope you enjoy :D_**

**_Warning: you may want to schedule an appointment with your dentist because this'll give you more cavities than peeps marshmallows._**

* * *

The laughter from outside could be heard through the thin carriage walls. There were people calling out of their doors and walking through the streets, laughing. It couldn't have been long past ten, Elisabet wagered.

She and Javert were again in their former positions of sitting on opposite sides, each staring out the window with their own musings. She turned towards him. His hair seemed to be permanently ruffled in the back where his neck met his collar. It was a bit longer than it was ten years ago. Stress had made its mark on his features; the hair on his head and face was now an even mix of gray and sand. Light patches of darkness were present underneath his eyes and the shadows of creases on his forehead showed years of anxiety beginning to take their toll. He had a small scratch on his nose that didn't look permanent. She never before realized how dark his eyelashes were. Indeed, they may have been thicker than hers. Elisabet wondered what he would look like if he laughed. Would those creases be there? How dark would the patches be then? But these were things that she suspected many didn't notice. She had hardly noticed them herself until now, and they just made her want to be close to him all the more.

What did remain the same was his stature- she had seen in her shop after he had saved her that he still had broad shoulders and a defined figure. She blushed even now thinking about how she just stood there and stared like an enamored school girl. Like she did that night in the church.

And his eyes. His eyes were still a piercing pale green that seemed to know so much but gave hint of nothing. When she looked into those eyes, really looked into them, she could almost see the frightened little boy he was, how much he built to bury that boy. Javert thought that he was changed, but he wasn't. When she looked into his pale green eyes she saw that; he was not changed, he just built walls around his heart. She had seen the fear and vulnerability in his eyes when the walls began to crack, and all she wanted was to bring them down completely. Javert played the emotionless and ruthless officer, but inside she suspected that he was just as fragile as she was- probably more so. She could even see that now, when he had nobody to hide from. She saw the pain that invaded his thoughts when he didn't try and push them away.

Well, what am I supposed to do? She thought, he won't let me push them away. But oh, how she wanted to.

He glanced over at her and noticed her staring. Elisabet turned her head towards the window immediately, turning with such force that her head hit the window of the carriage.

"Aghh!" she exclaimed, clutching her forehead.

"Why did you do that?" he asked simply.

"Because I thought it'd be a jolly time" she spat. To her surprise, he chuckled a bit. "It's not funny, you ass!" she laughed.

"That seems to be your favorite word to call me."

"Well, you deserve it."

"There is a penalty for that."

"You have a penalty for everything."

"Does it hurt?"

"A little bit."

"Would you like me to take a look at it?"

In truth, it didn't hurt that much. Certainly not enough to require a check. "If you can." She said anyway. Javert put his hand under her chin and moved closer. His eyes were careful, calculating as they inspected her forehead. He was so close that she could see individual hairs on his lip. She was hit with an urge to move forward just a little bit…

_Kiss him._

"A bit of a bruise but it should be fine." He concluded before moving away. No hesitation, no faltering. He just moved.

Well, what did I expect? She wondered. Elisabet chastised herself inwardly for almost losing control of herself. That was not happening again. Those pale green eyes that knew her so well could make her happier than she had ever been or tear her to pieces. Meanwhile, she would never mean anything to them.

When the carriage stopped in front of her house, she felt like it was too soon.

"I will walk you out." He announced. Elisabet stepped glumly out of the carriage and walked forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the café alive with light and merriment. She stood on her tip toes and reached above the doorframe- nothing.

She raised the flowerbox and felt within- nothing. Her heart sank as she felt something cold fall on her nose. She looked up to see the first Christmas snow begin to fall.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit shit shit…" she frantically searched the doorframe and the box and the doorframe again. She turned towards Javert. "You're taller than me, can you please check the doorframe? Please?"

"What is it?"

"I can't find my key."

Javert stepped up to the door and raised his arm, running his hands on the door. He turned to her. "Where else could it be?"

A thought dawned on her. "Oh, Renee must still have it! But I have no idea where she is…" she looked up at the snow once again. "What am I supposed to do? Stay out here all night?"

* * *

Lilybet looked at Javert imploringly. One solution came to his mind immediately… but no. No, no, a thousand times no.

"Is… is there not a friend you can stay with?" he asked.

She shook her head. "On Christmas?" Lilybet groaned and turned her back. Her shoulders tensed. He shifted his feet and cleared his throat. Behind him, the horses whinnied impatiently.

"There is no need to cry" he said, a little bit helplessly.

"I'm not crying!" she squealed, turning back around. Indeed, her eyes were dry. It was something Javert respected about her- she did not weep at every little misfortune like the women he saw, she had too much pride in herself. In the few times he did see her cry, it was not without a blow to that pride. "Just go. Leave."

Javert clicked his tongue. Her pride clearly did not leave much room for sense.

"I am not going to take you to a ball and then leave you out alone in the snow."

"You've left me before."

That? She was thinking of that now? Javert chose to ignore the comment. He took a few careful steps closer. There had to be a solution. Any solution but that. "Are you sure there is nowhere else you can go?"

"Y-yes. It isn't that c-c-cold, I can stay outside for one little n-night."

He looked at Lilybet, with her shoulders hunched and back to him. It seemed that there were no other options; Javert would never leave her here by herself. Christmas was an especially dangerous time with the desperate beggars about, driven mad by the merriment and prosperity around them. If it wasn't them, then sickness would surely get her. Was this what love was, he wondered, going against your common sense for a near-crying girl?

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "I… suppose you can come back with me for the night. For the night only. I can put you up in the guest room."

She whirled around to face him. Her eyes were beginning to shine but they were also filled with surprise and hope. The way she looked at him made him feel a little bit less guilty for this breach of modesty.

"Really? You m-mean th-that?" Lilybet turned away again. "No. No I couldn't. I couldn't do that to you."

"It would be no trouble… if you have nowhere else to go, that is."

"No. I'll be fine. You may go." Her voice was hard through the tears. Javert was caught off guard when something dropped within him.

On the other hand, he knew Lilybet and he knew her ego. It was stretched so thin that a mere flick could pop it. And so Javert decided to flick it. It was for her own good.

He straightened his shoulders and bowed to her. "As you wish. Thank you for accompanying me this evening, Mademoiselle. Goodnight." He kissed her hand and started walking towards the carriage. Not too quickly, but not too slowly. Just long enough for three…two…one…

"Wait."

Javert stopped and assumed a face of cold civility. He turned back to her. "Yes, Mademoiselle?"

She looked down at her feet and spoke in a soft, defeated voice. "Could I stay with you?"

"If you must. Come."

Without warning, Javert was overcome by nerves. He had never received overnight guests- or any sort of guests, really. His house was sizable, but not equipped for them. She would not like it, he knew. It was glum and plain. What was he to do? Did he have to entertain her in some way? Did he have to cook for her? He hoped she liked porridge, if that was the case.

He was going to have to be careful, he knew that much. This was already socially unacceptable on many levels, but what was he to do? Thankfully, things were going to settle soon, so nobody should see her going into his home. It was leaving that was the problem.

* * *

Elisabet climbed unsteadily back into the carriage. It seemed surreal, the whole thing. In truth, she never really imagined Javert anywhere but the police station. She never really envisioned him going home.

Now _she _was going to his home.

"So, what conditions do you have for me?" she asked.

"Conditions?"

"You always have conditions. What do you want me not to do?"

"Hmph," Javert snorted. "If you insist. Do not deliberately get in my way, touch anything I forbid you to touch, or steal anything."

"I would never-"

"-and keep this a secret."

Elisabet stared at him for a moment. "You're ashamed to have me there."

"No. You know as well as I do the rules of society. It would look indecent- it already_ is_ indecent- for the both of us. People would talk."

"Oh come now, half of Paris thinks we're happily engaged."

"What they think does not matter. It is what I know, what you know, and what the Lord knows that is true."

So he was ashamed. "Why are you taking me in, then?"

Javert stared out the window. "Because I would rather assist you now rather than have to save you from trouble or carry you to a hospital later."

Elisabet smiled. "Fair enough."

The carriage stopped outside of a dark house on the outskirts of what people deemed the "safe area" of the city- the inner ring where those of the middle class and higher lived, surrounded by the slums. One could even see them on a light day. It was two stories and wide, but had an isolated air. There was a reasonably kept garden surrounding it. The windows were bare save for plain white curtains. It looked rather like a large stone box.

The snow crunched beneath their feet and Elisabet could see her breath as she took in her surroundings.

"Wait by the door a moment." Javert instructed. He went over and paid the driver and came back, leading the way through.

"Is the door open?" she asked.

"It is locked. I, however, know how to keep track of my keys."

"That isn't funny!"

"I did not mean it to be."

Javert opened the door and held it for her. She stepped through-

"Hold. Take your shoes off." Javert commanded.

Elisabet looked at him and raised her eyebrows at the severity of his command. "Yes, sir." She took a step forward to bend down.

"_On the doormat._" He said pointedly. "I do not want you to track snow and dirt into my house."

"O-okay…" she took a step backwards and removed her shoes. Javert swooped down and took them and, after taking off his own, put them in a corner of the foyer. Elisabet chuckled at his meticulousness.

And so they stood in the middle of the room in darkness. Javert looked around. He clapped his hands together. "Right. Well… is there anything you need?"

"You've never had houseguests before?" she asked.

"Well… no. Not really."

"Not really?"

"Not ever."

"I'd start by turning on the lights."

"Right." Javert nodded and went to each light in the room, turning them on. It appeared that they were standing in his living room; the walls were devoid of anything but a single crucifix. There were two chairs and a sofa… nothing more. The room looked like it had not been occupied in years. The furniture was very plain. Elisabet felt bad for Javert- she wondered why he made his house look so lonely.

"Can I have a tour?" She could not hide her curiosity now that she was actually in Javert's house.

"I suppose…" Javert walked to the other two rooms- a small kitchen and a dining room containing only a small table and two chairs. They had the same unoccupied, lonely air that the living area had. It was a nice house, but it wasn't a home. They traveled up a sweeping staircase and Javert led her to a small room that had nothing in it but a small bed. "This is the guest room." He announced.

Elisabet walked in. She felt like she was the first person to ever enter- not new, just unused. She sat on the bare mattress. "Um, do you have any extra sheets?"

"Sheets?" Javert asked blankly. He blinked and shook his head slightly. "Oh, yes, sheets. You will be needing them. Excuse me a moment, I must find where Sophie keeps them." He exited the room with the air of a man going on a quest. Elisabet smiled at the doorway. He really was caring when he was given the chance.

Javert returned a short while later. He placed the sheets on the bed and scratched the back of his head. "I am not quite sure how to go about this." He announced.

Elisabet stepped in front of him and began unfolding the linens. "That's what I'm here for."

"You are here because you lost your keys, I would not need you here for this if you did not."

She rolled her eyes. She wondered how Javert could turn on his stupid so easily. "Okay." She said. When the bed was prepared, she turned to face him. "Do you have something I can sleep in? If not that's okay, I would just rather have something."

"I will go see what I have."

Elisabet followed him. She could see when she entered that his room was the one he populated most. It was larger than the guest room, with a wide bed in the center against a wall. There was a crucifix here too, but the walls weren't bare like they were everywhere else- there were a few maps tacked on: a map of France, a map of the world, and, she saw to her delight, the map of the stars that she got him. There was a wooden desk in the corner and a large bookshelf next to it, filled with old, large volumes.

Javert went to his drawers and pulled out a baggy white shirt like the ones he wore under his vest. "Will this do?" he asked.

Elisabet fingered the soft fabric. "This is great, thanks."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"What do you normally do when you get home?"

"I make tea, say my prayers, and go to bed."

"Tea is so bitter! My father always used to try and get me to drink it, even with sugar it tasted bad."

"If there is one thing I can do properly it is make tea. I do not have a palate for bitter either. Shall I make a cup for you as well?"

She looked at him, the imposing man in military garb who was a master at tea-making. Elisabet smiled. She loved this Javert.

That was when it hit her.

She loved him.

They were right, who knew? Clarice, Madame Vipond… suddenly, it was as if a fog she had never known was in her head cleared and there she saw Javert. She loved him in Montreuil su Mer. It had hit her suddenly then, too , after her kiss with Everett. It slapped her in the face but she fought it with all her strength. She told herself it was just a childhood fancy, that she only thought she was in love, that he would not have left if it was real love. But here he was, with her again. She loved him then, she loved him now.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"What?" she asked. It was only then that Elisabet realized that she had sat down and was staring at him, unblinking. "I-I'm good. Good. Sure, tea. I'll take some."

Javert inclined his head and walked down the hall. Elisabet exhaled and put her hand on her forehead.

"What's happening to me?" she sighed. She couldn't love Javert if she hadn't even forgiven him yet. Even so, she felt the walls he had taught her to build crumbling, the last brick falling away. She felt naked, exposed. So much so, in fact, that when he suddenly appeared in the doorway again, her hands flew to cover her body.

"Do not touch anything." He reminded before disappearing again.

Elisabet closed her eyes. When she opened them, she noticed for the first time the glass door that led to a small balcony. It was large enough for two people to stand comfortably, and she needed air.

* * *

Javert walked up the stairs carefully, carrying two cups of tea. It still felt strange to have someone in his house other than Sophie and himself. And she would be wearing his shirt. He only hoped that she wouldn't go through his things. Some of the books on that shelf were at least a century old, and fragile.

He looked into the guestroom- empty. She must have still been in his room. There was a woman in his room. The thought made Javert feel dirty, like he was hiding something.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked, looking around. "Mademoiselle Lilybet?" That room was empty as well. The bathroom door was dark. Javert was thoroughly confused until he looked straight ahead and saw her, standing on the balcony with the snow falling around her. It almost looked as if she had a soft white glow about her, none of the snowflakes getting near her, but instead putting her in a shell.

He set the cups down and opened the door slowly, clearing his throat.

She turned around and gave a weak smile. "Hello" she said softly.

"You will get sick if you stand out here."

"Remember the last time we stood out on a balcony together?" she went on, ignoring his comment. The Javert looked down. Few lights were on now. To the right, all was dark for those who could not afford a Christmas. Everywhere else, the people left on the street were making their way home now.

"An hour ago?" he asked.

Lilybet shook her head, looking up at the sky. "No. Before that. At the gala. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"It almost feels like a dream, it happened so long ago. So much has changed, but at the same time… it's all the same. The stars are just as beautiful."

Javert looked up, feeling oddly at peace. He put his hands on the railing. "They are."

"The snow, it looks like little stars falling around us."

"It does."

She was silent for a time, shuffling her feet. She took a step away and looked like she was going to speak. Javert observed her out of the corner of his eye.

"You know… I fancied you a little bit back then." She said. Her voice was conversational but her face was tight. Javert felt his stomach drop and his head start spinning. He had to say something.

"Oh." was all he could bring out.

"Did you- did you know at all?"

Javert swallowed dryly. "No." he answered. Was this really happening?

Her voice was so soft that Javert had to put actual effort into hearing her. "I thought for sure you did, sometimes. I annoyed you to no end- nuisance you called me, wasn't it? I remember trying so hard for that gala. I thought if I was more like Clarice, you'd actually like me. And then you told me not to change. You have no idea how much that touched me, then."

"You said nothing."

"Of course I didn't say anything!" She began to fiddle with her fingers. Javert looked at her hands. He never noticed how small her wrists were. It struck him for some reason. He wondered if she had ever broken them. She ran her fingers over the cut on her right hand. Javert felt like he was being buried in pins and needles: one sudden motion would get him punctured. Lilybet began to speak again and he stared at her blankly, his insides in turmoil. "How did- God, I can't believe I'm asking this- how did you ever feel about me? God, this is stupid of me."

"What?" he asked numbly.

"Nevermind-"

"-no. What did you say?" No more hiding. Javert never did things halfway, even if he did not know what he was getting into. He would not run.

"It's a stupid question. But I wondered when I was younger if… if there was ever a chance you… you liked me. It was stupid and farfetched and it doesn't matter anymore, but… did you ever feel anything like that for me?"

Javert's lip trembled when he tried to speak. He turned away. "Yes."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes."

"W-why didn't you ever tell me? _Look at me, Javert-_ why didn't you ever tell me? Why did you leave?"

His heart was pounding so loudly that it was a wonder to Javert that she did not hear it. "What was I supposed to do." He said slowly. He balled his fists and hung his head low. "I was ashamed. Was I supposed to tell you? Look at our class differences- we come from entirely different backgrounds. And the age, by God, I was more than twice your age then. It was wrong. It _is_ wrong. Look at yourself. You are young a beautiful. I am nearing fifty. I am old, destined to spend my life in my solitude and darkness-"

"-_I loved you_." she exclaimed, getting close to him, tears welling in her eyes. It was out, finally, after all this wondering. "I didn't care about anything else. I felt safe with you, I was happy. I wanted to be there for you and-"

Javert cut her off with a snort. "-a love you seemed to project on Officer Martin, as I recall."

"Even before I knew how I felt about you I never felt half as close to him as I do to you. I loved you and you left me. How could you say you had any feelings for me if you left me like that? You knew you were leaving me alone you bastard, you traitor!"

"Everything they say about me is right. I am a half-gypsy bastard who rose higher than anyone thought, but that does not change who I am. Yes, I felt things for you. I thought about you. But even if I knew how you felt, I could not have done a thing. I must travel through life alone, and to get you caught up in my shadows is the last thing I want for you."

"I hated you after that. I hated you. I sat in the church every Wednesday, did you know that? You're so adamant about how bad you are for me that you can't even see that I need you!"

Javert turned around. "Need?"

Lilybet stared at him, wild and wide eyed. She panted from her explosion. "Needed." She corrected. Of course.

"I left to escape from it." He said quietly. "To escape from being needed by another person. I will let you down one day, I know it. A man like me can never change, and you said yourself that you wanted your happily ever after. A life with me-"

"-do I make you happy?"

"What?"

"Just tell me. Do I make you happy."

"You have… helped me. You gave me someone to trust."

"Well, so did you. I don't care where you're from, I told you that. I felt safe with you. You gave me a reason to smile. And then when you abandoned me, I just…"

"I did not abandon you." Javert stepped closer to her so that he was looking almost directly downwards to address her. "I wanted to escape you. To escape this. I wanted to give you a peaceful, happy life. I was getting too weak. Too comfortable-"

"-I can't be happy without you. I can hurt you just as badly as you can hurt me. But I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. You're not weak, you're not evil, you're not old, you're not any of those things. You are Etienne Javert and you are a good man."

Javert's mouth dropped open. "You remember?" So that meant that she had to remember-

As if reading his mind, she put one hand on his shoulder and one on the back of his head. She stood on her toes and kissed him.

His brain had ceased to function. To his own surprise, Javert kissed back- it was no fit of passion or grand romance- it was a gentle, unsure gesture to show each other that they indeed were not alone; nor would they ever have to be again. Not knowing what to do with his hands, Javert placed one on Lilybet's cheek and let the other hang limply by his side. His brain was screeching at him to stop, to let go and to send her to bed. Something else was roaring triumphantly, a beast that was finally set free after all these years.

And so they stood that way, two souls haunted by self-damnation, reaching out to each other and forgiving one another their past guilt and fault in that late Christmas snowfall.

After a while, Lilybet stopped it. She looked into his eyes. "You didn't pull away that time."

"I-I t-thought you forgot." Oh dear, Javert thought- he always used to stutter when he was nervous, he thought it was a bad habit he had weaned himself off of, but apparently not. Then again, a lot of things happened that he did not expect when he was around her. He was still convinced that this was fake, just the product of a cruel dream.

"I remembered the morning after. I had a fierce headache too, I must have been awful for you. I figured it was something you would rather forget."

"So when you had said that you thought you were in love, was it-"

"-always you." She shook her head and smiled at the ground.

"Did you?"

"I'm not sure." She said, truthfully. "I did have feelings for you. You were my best friend. You _are_ my best friend."

_I love you_, she wanted to say.

_I love you_, he wanted to say.

They were both terrified of it but excited by it, the words ripping at their chests. Somehow, it seemed known; but the right time to say it would come one day.

"You are… my b-best friend as well."

She placed a hand tentatively on his cheek. "If you choose to be with me, if you choose to have feelings for me, that does not make you weak. It makes you human. I never wanted you to change. I want to show you that I'm here for you, that you aren't alone. The law saved you out of darkness, and you saved me out of my own darkness. Let me show you that your job is not all you have to cling onto. I want you to be happy."

Javert did not know if she was right. He did not know if he could ever be fully happy or if he was everything she needed. What he did know, was that in that moment, the fortress crumbled, and something else was built in its place. And it encompassed the both of them, not just himself. He needed to protect her, too. And he needed her there. He still believed that he was born to a sinful life and that he would never be worthy of the grace she bestowed on him, but damn it all if he did not try. Slowly, carefully, he put his arms out. She stepped closer into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder- she was too short to do that in Montreuil su Mer, he recalled fleetingly- his arms gradually got tighter around her until he felt like he was holding on for dear life, his hands on her back and his mind and heart waging an epic battle. He could not help but tremble slightly, and she trembled as well- they were both nervous. What was to happen now? All Javert knew was that he loved Lilybet, she wanted to be with him, and that holding onto her would hold his nightmares at bay, if only for those few brief moments.

* * *

Elisabet shivered when Javert finally let go. Her heart was full and her head was in the clouds. Was this real? A gust of wind hit her and whipped snowflakes in her face, making her clutch herself.

"Come inside, you will catch a cough." Javert said gently. He eyed her warily, but with a newfound gentleness that he had never had.

Or perhaps he didn't show it.

She put her hands on her cheeks to hid her wide smile as she walked through the open door. There were two cups of tan-brown liquid sitting on his desk. It didn't look like the tea her father used to make.

"What's in it?" she asked, pointing to the teacup.

"I put milk in my tea and use honey for sweetness. It helps me relax." Javert picked up a cup and took a sip. He put it down and made a judgmental face. "Lukewarm." He said.

"That's okay, I don't like anything too hot." She shrugged. Elisabet picked up the cup and stared at it. She didn't like tea, but she was Javert's guest and he went through the trouble- plus, with their little scene outside, she couldn't possible offend him now. She sniffed at it.

"I am not going to poison you." He said, his eyebrow cocked.

She turned red. "I know! I'm just… testing." Elisabet took one final glance at Javert's look of cool mockery and took a tentative sip. To her surprise, it did not taste bitter in the slightest. The milk gave it a creamy taste, and the honey gave a rich sweetness. She took a larger gulp. "This is good!" she exclaimed, drinking the rest.

"You may leave your cup on the desk, I will have Sophie take them tomorrow morning." So he had a maid, then? Elisabet wondered briefly if it was a young maid, or a pretty one… she felt a pang of jealousy. Her eyes widened. Well this was new. She looked around the room once more and her eyes fell on the bookshelf. She crossed over to it and fingered the spines of the large books.

"Be careful, those are old." He warned from behind. She had to squint to make out the writing.

"The Norman Conquest of 1066" she read. This was too good to be true. She pulled out the volume and started eagerly flipping through it.

"What are you doing?" Javert walked over, alarmed and made to take the book. So he trust her with his heart, but not with his textbooks, she mused.

She pulled away. "Take it easy! I'm not licking it, I'm just reading it."

"Why is licking what you immediately assume?"

"Would you want me licking your book?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, there you go." She skimmed pages of maps and paintings. "This is amazing, have you read this?"

"Of course," Javert answered proudly, "there is not a single book on my shelf that I have not read. Do you enjoy the histories?"

"Enjoy? I love them! The Russian Empire has always been my personal favorite."

"A country built upon blood and oppression."

"You can say that for all the greats. Show me what else you have, can we look through some?"

"If you would like." And so they sat well into the night, debating the politics of this ruler and the tyranny of that, discussing battles, enlightening one another with randomly pulled facts until-

"Dear goodness, it's three in the morning!" Elisabet exclaimed, looking at the clock on his wall. Suddenly, she was overcome by tiredness. It became a battle to keep her eyes open, but she did not want to leave. She wanted to stay, sitting close to Javert, poring over his books.

"I must get to bed." he said at once.

Elisabet felt guilty. "Do you have to get up at six again tomorrow?"

"No," Javert replied, a bit disappointed, "officially I am supposed to be off-duty tomorrow, but the law never rests. I am going in at nine tomorrow morning just for paperwork."

"Well, that's good. I'll just take that shirt and go then. Goodnight, my dear Inspector." She curtseyed and gave a mocking grin.

"Goodnight, Mademoiselle." He bowed and kissed her hand.

Elisabet stepped forward, placed her hands on his shoulders and got close to his face. "And thank you, Etienne Javert, for everything." She placed a kiss on his cheek before walking out the door. And for the first time in years, she went to sleep with a smile on her face.

…..(later)

Normally, Elisabet would be recognized as a sound sleeper- a horse crashing through her window hardly stood a chance of waking her up. But on this night, the sound of soft whimpers sent her eyes flying open. She sat bold upright, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She strained her ears- indeed, whimpers were coming from down the hall. Elisabet got out of bed slowly and crept on her tip-toes down to Javert's room. She twisted the knob ever so slowly.

Thankfully, the moon was full, so it cast its white light through the balcony window and onto Javert's bed. She stared at him in confusion. He looked to be asleep, but he was twitching and flinching as if someone were beating him with an invisible belt. Though his eyes were closed, his face held more pain than she had ever seen before. It was full of fear; he looked like a caged animal.

The whimpers, it seemed were coming from him. She crept closer to hear what he was saying.

"N-no, p-p-please I didn't do an-anything wrong, I p-promise it wasn't me, p-please-"

"Javert." Elisabet said gently. "Etienne?" Nevertheless, he kept pleading with his invisible tormentor.

"I am a g-gypsy bast-t-tard, I am, it isn't m-my fault, I'm sorry, p-please stop." The voice came from him, but it was not Javert's. Not the Javert she knew, anyway. This was high pitched and pitiful- it was the voice of a child. Did he struggle with this every night? So this is what came from being the emotionless, impassive Inspector- he could keep his demons at bay during the daylight hours, but in the night they danced around him, torturing him. She put a shaking hand on his forehead and he flinched away.

"Mother, h-help, I'll b-be good…"

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here." Elisabet sat softly down on the bed. She put her hands on his shoulders. When he jerked, she stroked his hair." "It's me, it's Lilybet, nobody will hurt you, I'll keep you safe…" Gradually, he began to relax, the whimpers subsiding. He put one hand upon her arm and she held his head in her lap, still running her fingers through his hair. It was soft, she noted. "I'll keep you safe, I'll keep you safe" she kept repeating. It was a promise. "I'll always be here, they won't hurt you anymore." Though she was using the words to calm Javert down, deep inside she meant them. As long as she was around, she would do everything in her power to help him half as much as he had helped her. Soon, he was breathing deeply, normally. The fatigue came back to Elisabet. She leaned over to rest her eyes for a moment.

She was half awake when her head went flying backwards. When it crashed into the bedpost, she was fully awake.

I'm going to get a concussion from all of these damn head injuries, she thought, rubbing her skull.

"What the hell-"

There, at the edge of the bed, sat Javert in a battle ready stance, staring at her wide eyed and accusingly.

"Why are you here." He demanded, not blinking.

"I was just- ahhh God that hurts- I woke up and I heard you, you were having a nightmare! I couldn't just leave you! Damn it, Javert, did you have to throw me?!"

"You had no right to come in here."

"I couldn't help it, you woke me up! Aren't you at least going to thank me? Or apologize, I'll take either at this bloody moment."

"What did you see?" he asked.

"What?"

"What did you see, what did you hear? What made you come here?"

"You- you were upset, you were scared. I couldn't let you stay like that so I held you until you were okay. You grabbed onto my arm and everything."

Javert looked down and muttered something unintelligible, trying to conceal his red face.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," she said gently, putting her hand on his arm. "I get nightmares too. Do they happen a lot to you?"

"The shadows of my past haunt me every night. It seems that I can keep them at bay in the daylight, but I grow weaker at night."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You cannot change the past."

"But I can change the future-"

"-forget what you saw." He cut across. "Forget it. I thank you for your thoughtfulness and I apologize for your injury. But forget about what happened." Javert looked like a man whose pride had been wounded, and so Elisabet knew not to mention it any further. Instead, she leaned forward and held onto him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He was in nothing but a thin blouse and pajamas, so Elisabet could better feel his definition. His shoulder was hard, but comfortable. She breathed in deeply. He still smelled like cotton. Javert raised an arm weakly and patted her back.

"Stop it with that," her voice was slightly muffled from being on his shoulder, "stop with the patting. Just hold me. I know you can, you did it yesterday." He stopped patting and let his hand lay gently on her back, the other one rising and stroking her hair. "That's better." She said complacently. They sat there for a while; it was a sort of confirmation to them both of the events of last night.

The sound of footsteps scuffled below. Javert broke away. "That is Sophie." He said, thinking hard.

"You don't want her to know I'm here, do you?" Elisabet read his face.

Javert looked at her hesitantly. "It would look-"

"-I understand. I'll get dressed, you just get her away from the door and I'll slip by."

"You will make it home by yourself?"

"Yes yes, I'll be fine, it's still morning, half of Paris is asleep." She smiled up at him as they stood. "Feel free to check on me later, if you'd like."

Javert looked down at her face, the corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly upwards. If she were not inches from his face, she would have missed it. He looked at her with what she really believed was affection, yet also the anxiety of having something so new suddenly come into his life. Elisabet was almost positive that she was looking at him the same way.

He grabbed onto her hands gently. "Thank you for accompanying me, Mademoiselle." He said. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. Elisabet reached up and planted one on his lips.

"Thank you for escorting me." Since he would be busy arranging her escape from his house, this would have to do as their goodbye.

She walked out of the room as gracefully as she could, fully aware of Javert staring after her. She turned to look back at him and walked straight into the doorframe.

He took a step forward. "You-"

"-fine." She waved a hand dismissively back at him, gathering the rest of her dignity and walking to the guestroom. What he ever saw in her, she never could tell.


	28. Chapter 27

**_Author's Note: Hey everyone, I'm sososo sorry for the long wait, I've just been experiencing major writer's block. This chapter may be a bit slow/fluffy, but I promise it'll pick up from here! Sorry about it if it seems a little blah compared to the usual :( I've gotten a question about my update schedule: with the exception of this chapter, updates should take about 3 to 5 days._**

_**PS: I have a little bit of a fluff chapter sort of ready for some point- would that be something you want, or should I not dawdle on little things? Let me know! I'll go with the majority opinion.**_

_**PPS: I just want you all to know that all of the reviews and whatnot have meant so much. They've really been a big part of what's kept me going with writing this, and I love hearing that you guys are liking this. Thank you so much for reading and again, enjoy and let me know if you like it!**_

_**PPPS: WAIT ONE MORE THING I FORGOT I got a request for a ship name for Javert and Lilybet... my answer would be that that is totally awesome that people want to do that and I'm incredibly flattered, and feel free to find a ship name! Though my personal favorites of what I've been presented with are Jilybert and Lilyvert**_

* * *

Several hours had passed and Elisabet still couldn't hold a train of thought without it leading to Javert. Customers would come in and some regulars had even asked her if something had gone amiss because she seemed "a bit hazy". Nevertheless, the day crawled by and when she heard a knock on the door instead of the ringing of a bell to signal a new customer, she shook her head and barely hid a smile.

"Mademoiselle." Javert bowed and kissed her hand.

"You do know that this is a store, right? You can just walk in." she turned her head and grinned.

He cleared his throat. "I did not come as a patron, so I did not see it fit to simply enter."

"Fair enough" Elisabet laughed.

"You left this." Javert said quickly, thrusting his hand out and holding a string of small pearls.

Elisabet, thrown off by the suddenness of his gesture, took it slowly, confused. "Oh, uh, thanks." And so they stood, somewhat awkwardly, looking around everywhere but at each other.

"This is stupid." Elisabet said suddenly.

"What?"

"Why are we being so… so _awkward_? We don't have to act any differently. Nothing's different! Well, okay, a couple of things are different, but we're still… what are we?"

Javert opened his mouth and closed it several times before putting forth his own question. "Does what happened yesterday count? Does it… mean anything?"

"To me it does. And you?"

"Yes."

"Good" she gave a small smile. "You know that you're still my best friend."

"I know."

A moment passed as they just stared at each other without a word, a feeling of mutual comfort and relief that the night before wasn't just a rush of emotion between them.

"Want to come inside?" she asked, leaning on the doorframe.

Javert looked at her hesitantly. "I-"

"-yes you do." Elisabet pulled him by the arm inside and closed the door behind her. To her surprise, he didn't resist. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I expect Sophie left food out for me before she went home."

"I can make something hot. I have a bit of ham in the oven and some turnips on the stove, would you like to join me?" In truth, Elisabet had hoped that Javert would come by that day, so she had set to cooking an hour ago and left it to heat up while she was working downstairs. "Please?"

"Very well" he said. Though he seemed resigned to it, Elisabet saw what she thought was a hint of eagerness in his eyes; he probably didn't get invited for dinner often. She sat him down at her little table and set his food out. It felt good- she looked at him, prodding at the ham with his fork. She loved Javert and he cared for her. Elisabet smiled and sat down across from him.

"So, what's your favorite food?" she asked conversationally.

"I do not know."

"Come on, you have to have _something_. What do you eat at home?"

"In the morning I have a bowl of porridge, in the evening I have cold meat on bread."

Elisabet rubbed her temple. Sometimes, Javert's simplicity made things more complicated than they should be. "Is there anything you like to eat but not that much? A favorite meat? A dessert maybe?"

He thought for a moment. "I enjoy cod. And flaugnarde, when made well. Why?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just want to know more about you."

When dinner was finished, Elisabet looked at the clock- it was already eight in the evening.

"I must be off. I have an early patrol tomorrow." Javert said, standing.

"What time are you waking up?"

"No later than five."

"Poor thing, that sounds awful."

At that, Javert puffed his chest out and said proudly, "Crime does not rest, neither do I."

Elisabet smiled again and led him downstairs. "What are you doing to celebrate the New Year?"

"Patrolling the streets to make sure no drunkards stir up trouble."

Her face fell. "What time?"

"Six in the morning until five in the afternoon, then half past midnight until four in the morning."

"Why do you do that to yourself? Can't you switch out?"

He turned to look at her as if she had just asked what color the sky was. "I am the best officer in the area. It is only proper that I head the patrols on the night when the most alcohol-induced trouble will come."

Elisabet pursed her lips. She wondered if there was any part of him that wasn't rooted deep in the law. And yet he really did seem to like it, he seemed proud to be needed. But she needed him, too, especially because she had already begun planning. Nevertheless, his wellbeing came first.

"So does that mean you'll be sleeping in between?" she sighed.

"Of course not. By the time I got home it would be six, and I would have to wake up at ten thirty at night. Such a small amount of sleep would do more harm than good."

"Well then… would you want to come here in between? It is a holiday after all."

"I would not want to keep you from any plans you have made with your friends."

"You're my friend!" She laughed exasperatedly and turned to face Javert. Elisabet leaned on the door and grabbed his thick hands with her thin ones. "Let me give you a happy New Year. Believe me if I didn't want to, I wouldn't have asked."

"I do not drink."

"Who said we have to drink? Just come over for a few hours. Please?"

Javert looked at her, his pale green eyes searching her face- why, Elisabet did not know. Finally, he stepped back and straightened himself. "As you wish." He consented.

"Get here around six, then. I'll see you then." She handed him his hat.

"Mademoiselle." Javert bowed and put it on his head. Suddenly, Elisabet was seized with a new anxiety. Should she kiss him now? Or was it too early? It wasn't like he was a suitor, he was just… Javert. Inspector Etienne Javert. She bit her lip and stared at him, her heart screaming to kiss him and her mind telling her it was the wrong thing to do. Javert was looking down at her, seemingly confused at her sudden hesitation. Elisabet thought of last night and how tightly he held her on the balcony. She reached up quickly and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Inspector." She nodded, a small, shy smile on her lips.

….(later)

That evening played through Elisabet's head as she ran around her kitchen trying to do several things at once. The cod was baking in lemons and peanuts, the dough for the flaugnarde was on the stove, and the apples and cranberries for the same were simmering in honey. She plopped down into a chair with a 'huff'; she knew that Javert didn't typically show emotion, but if he didn't show the slightest hint of gratitude, she firmly believed that he would be receiving a punch in the stomach.

Elisabet wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and raised her eyes wearily to the clock. It was five- Javert would be getting off of his first shift soon. She stood, set the food to warming, and walked into her bedroom to see what clothes she could wear.

She chose a simple, light blue dress with short sleeves and white frills at the bottom. Elisabet had wanted to buy a new one for the occasion, but she had realized that the recent upswing in spending had left her with less money than she would have liked. But she still had her health, job, and home, so there was nothing to worry about. She tied her hair up in a bun, leaving a few locks to frame her face.

"Why won't you curl?" she chided her hair, trying to twirl it around her finger. It wasn't that her hair was lifeless; her brown locks waved every which way except what way she needed them at the moment.

Three curt knocks on the door below pushed her hair from her mind. Elisabet's heart gave an extra beat as she made her speedy way downstairs, smiling ear to ear.

* * *

Javert took a step back as Lilybet swung the door open with such force that even she took a few unbalanced steps to steady herself.

"Hi." She beamed up at him with a youthful vigor that had not diminished in ten years. At twenty-five, women her age were usually married by now, and yet she still seemed a young girl to Javert in many ways. She had her youth, her health, and her whole life ahead of her. He was sure that she got at least one other invitation for the night, and yet she wanted to spend it with him. It made Javert feel proud, really, proud and old.

"Mademoiselle." He bowed to her. It was more habit than anything else that made him still call her that. Saying 'Lilybet' felt improper on his tongue. She opened the door wider and he stepped in. She took his hat and coat and they walked upstairs to her flat. As they ascended, Javert could not help but notice that she was the perfect amount of steps ahead of him that her bottom was at his eye level. Each time, he would look up and watch it sway side to side as she got higher and higher, then promptly look down at his feet, his face red as he admonished himself. It happened enough times that Javert had begun to wish that there were less steps when they finally got to the top floor and she abruptly swung around to face him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Quite." Javert answered truthfully. He had to admit, it was nice to have home cooking that wasn't porridge or cold meat, and Lilybet wasn't bad at it. He had been a bachelor for forty seven years; it was peaceful- no fuss, no emotions to deal with. However, when Lilybet entered into his life, he realized how truly lonely he was. And he was still lonely: when he came home to his empty, dark house, when he slept in his large bed, when he looked in the mirror and ran his hands through his graying hair. But remembering that night on the balcony, remembering that, if he wanted, there was someone to welcome him into their home whenever he needed it, filled him with a sort of safe comfort.

Lilybet took his hand in hers- it was clammy from what Javert suspected was the heat of the cooking. Javert held hers right back softly, carefully. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? It felt nice, anyway. She seemed to like that; when Lilybet felt Javert's fingers on her hand, she turned back and smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

A wave of stuffy heat puffed into Javert's face. He blinked a few times at the rise in temperature. She clearly saw it written on his face.

Lilybet looked at him sheepishly. "I know it's hot, I have the stove and the oven on. Maybe I'll put the fire out, that should help." Once it was out, she pulled open a window and let the cold air rush in. Javert sat at the wooden table and looked down- she had put out her finest dishes for the evening, evidently trying hard to mimic the high-society style. She put out three forks per person- in the order of a large one first, then a small one, then a medium one- but Javert suspected that if he were to point her flaw out, she would only have a fit at him. Nevertheless, it was endearing that she tried. His lips curled slightly upwards into a small, shy smile as he ran his thick fingers on the silverware.

Javert looked up when a rich, buttery smell suddenly filled the room. Lilybet placed a large plate on the table and beamed at it proudly, breathing a bit heavily from the weight of the dish.

"Cod." She said proudly, her hands on her hips. "With lemon butter and peanuts."

It looked unlike anything Javert had ever seen. "You made this all yourself?" he asked quietly. "For me?"

"For you." Lilybet nodded. She cut a piece for him and some for herself and Javert took his first cautious bite: he was still fairly new at adapting to others' home cooking.

It was a bit on the dry side and the lemon butter was a little runny, but when Javert lifted his gaze to see Lilybet looking down at her own plate rapidly and pretending that she wasn't watching him nervously, anxious for his approval, he decided that it tasted better than any royal banquet food he had ever eaten.

She asked him about his day, about his patrols, and Javert shared the drunken brawls he had broken up, the incompetence of some officers… it wasn't much, but nobody else cared enough to listen to it. Lilybet watched him, asking questions and nodding when he spoke.

And yet, her usual rapt attention was permeated with an excitable air. She listened, but all throughout dinner there seemed to be something she was waiting for and anticipating.

Javert was truly impressed with her flaugnarde; it seemed that her long, thin hands were adept at baking. It was not too sweet or too bland, and it had the perfect amount of fruit. When he was finishing the last bits of the cake, Lilybet caught him off-guard by leaning in close and grabbing his arms.

"I have a surprise for you." She pecked his lips quickly- Javert nearly jumped when she did that, it seemed that he was still getting used to it- and practically leapt out of her chair and ran into another room, leaving Javert thoroughly confused.

When she returned, she kneeled at his feet like an excited child and placed a heavy brown package in his lap. Javert stared at it uncomprehendingly.

"What is this?" he asked numbly.

"Your birthday present!"

"It is not my birthday."

"I promised, remember? Go on, open it."

Javert carefully began unwrapping the string and unsticking the corners of the paper.

"Just rip it!" she said impatiently.

"No." He continued until he could finally unfold the wrapping. He glanced at her one final time and met her wide, blue-gray eyes before opening the gift. His skin crawled and his heart raced. Javert was, for one of the few times in his life, excited.

He picked it up and felt the smooth, red leather. He rifled through the pages. He ran his fingers over the gold text.

The book was simply titled, "**The American Revolution**". Javert's breath grew shallow as he turned the book over and over in his hands.

"I noticed that you didn't have anything like this in your collection, I thought you might enjoy it." Javert had almost forgotten that Lilybet was there. He looked down at her and looked back at the book. A pang of guilt shot through him. It must have cost her dearly.

"How much did you pay for this?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Never you mind. Well- well what do you think?"

"It is… beautiful." And it was. He felt the crisp, neat pages with their writing and charts and maps. Javert could not remember ever getting a more considerate gift. And she gave him a birthday, a real birthday. She did not care of his age or the work, she just did it. He looked at her, still wide-eyed. "Thank you."

"Of course." They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they just locked eyes, an affection passing between them mingled with the relief that there was no more wondering. He looked into her wide eyes, thinking in that moment that she truly was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. When he had first met her, Javert thought she was decent enough, but he had no time to focus on such things. But now, he looked at this young, beautiful woman who cared so much. She gave him a birthday. Javert thought that he might almost kiss her himself.

A knock on the door broke the reverie.

* * *

It was nine in the evening, who could possibly be at the door now? Elisabet placed her hands on Javert's knees to steady herself as she got up.

Failing at this, her toes slipped backwards and she fell forward into his stomach. Javert grunted but was not moved. Elisabet, fully aware of where she would have fallen if she let herself, pushed backwards off of his chest as soon as she made the unfortunate contact. She sat on the floor, her feet straight out, staring at the ground and rubbing her burning red cheek.

Can't I not be an idiot? She thought. Just once?

"What do keep in there, rocks?" she asked sheepishly. She clutched her stomach. She felt fully aware, at that moment, how fit Javert was and how prominent the little pouch of fat on her otherwise okay stomach was.

"Are you sick?" he asked, noticing the action.

"No, I'm chubby." She looked up at Javert. The incredulous look he gave her made her feel a little bit better. So she wasn't as fit as a man who spent most of his life under military training. She wasn't _fat_ either. I'm just normal, Elisabet told herself. Thank God for this corset, she thought for perhaps the first and only time in her life.

Four more insistent knocks on the door.

She placed her index finger on her lips and then pointed it at him before running downstairs. Elisabet wanted to have a quiet, happy night with Javert; if any friends found out he was here, they would never leave her alone. Besides, she reflected sadly, he would probably feel embarrassed.

"Hello, my dear!" A blonde mane whipped Elisabet in the face as two arms wrapped about her neck.

"Hello, hello!" she said, a bit breathlessly, to Renee and her fiancé, kissing them both on the cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

Lesgle shrugged. "Well, you said you were busy on New Years, but we were on our way to the café and saw that your lights were on. We wanted to make sure you had someone to celebrate with."

Elisabet smiled at her friends gratefully. She opened her mouth to reply when Renee crossed her arms and stared at Elisabet smugly.

"Actually, darling, I think Lilybet _has _someone here. Perhaps the same someone she spent Christmas with? Which, by the way, you never told me about."

Lesgle looked at her, his interest piqued. "And who would that someone be?"

"That someone is no one!" she protested.

"Oh come on, look at you. Look at your dress, look at your hair. And something smells awfully good upstairs. AND I heard you talking to someone before you came down." Renee smirked.

Elisabet backed up a little and leaned against the doorframe, both physically and verbally cornered. "Fine." She raised her hands up in defeat. "There is someone here. Someone who I made arrangements to be alone with." When her friends raised their eyebrows, she amended quickly. "No, not like that. Someone I'm friends with. Friends. It does not mean anything. Look, just leave."

"Very well" Renee consented. "Come over for dinner tomorrow evening and we'll catch up on these things."

"I will." Elisabet promised. "Happy New Year!" she hugged both of her friends and shut the door.

She turned to the steps and discovered Javert standing behind the wall.

"Were you listening to my conversation?" she asked, probably more accusingly than she meant to.

Javert cleared his throat. "I was merely making sure everything was alright. It is unusual for people to ring on a holiday at so late an hour." Elisabet nodded in agreement. She remembered the last time two people came calling at a late hour, asking for her help…

Yet something about Javert disquieted her. He had a sudden distant air about him, it was off putting.

It then dawned on her that, though he may not have been listening on purpose, he must have heard her excuses.

"You know that- that I didn't mean it- when I said it meant nothing-"

"-of course." He said curtly, meaning that he knew nothing of the sort.

"Hey," she turned him around gently, "you have no idea how much it means to me that you're here. If I told them, they never would have left. Did you honestly want my loud friends here to disturb us? I love spending time with you, and I don't want to spend your birthday with people that would make you uncomfortable. I want to be with the real you. Besides, I remember how you felt when everyone thought we were together at the ball. I know you don't want anything about us getting out to anyone. But… just, thank you." Elisabet was overcome with the urge to wrap her arms around his neck- and so she did, and, burying her face in his shoulder, continued, "Thank you for being here with me and helping me as much as you have. You've always made me feel safe."

"Why are you saying this?" he asked, confused.

In truth, Elisabet didn't really know. But the feelings swirled around her heart and she inhaled deeply, smelling the musky-cottony scent and feeling his facial hair on her forehead. He didn't raise his arms to hug her, but he didn't pull away either- that wasn't a bad sign.

"Because, I don't need a reason to say how I feel." She felt a large finger reach under her chin and pull her face to face with Javert. He studied her for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak.

"You have caused me much trouble, mademoiselle." He said quietly.

"Because you, Monsieur Inspector, are just a walk in the park." Elisabet's ease ebbed away as she realized just how close she was. She could make out each little hair on his face, could see the wrinkled pouches of stress under his eyes. She felt his shallow breath on her face. And he pulled them into that position in the first place. She chewed on her bottom lip. "If… if I were to kiss you right now… would you p-protest?"

Javert did not respond. Instead, his eyes fluttered closed as he moved closer. Elisabet shut hers and met him halfway; just like on the balcony, she felt a warmth course through her as she felt herself sinking deeper into Javert, deeper into a place of safety and happiness where she truly felt whole.

She could almost feel her happily ever after.

* * *

"Let's go back upstairs" Lilybet said in a low voice when they broke apart. He followed her closely as she walked, trying desperately to beat back the comfort he was feeling.

_The happier you get now, the worse you will feel later, _a voice in the back of his mind said, _you cannot be her Prince Charming. You were not meant for this happiness._

And yet, when Javert looked at the girl walking in front of him with a smile that he was responsible for on her face, remembering that he was here for his first ever birthday party- if he could call it that- he steeled himself against the voice. For tonight, at least, he could be happy.

But she had hidden him from her friends. She said it was for him, yes, but Javert would understand if Lilybet did not want anyone to know that she was spending her New Years with the old, impassive Inspector Javert. He looked up when she began to speak again.

"Hey, Jav- erm, Etienne-"

"-you may address me as Javert, if that is easier."

"But what would you rather have me call you?"

"I have no preference." People had called him Javert nearly all his life; in all honesty, hearing Etienne felt rather foreign to his ears.

"Okay, then. Are we… are…"

"What?"

"What are we?"

Javert shifted his gaze to his feet. He had given it a lot of thought in the past week, in truth, but nothing had ever come from it. Courting was the first thing to come to his mind, but no- he was too old to go through that process, and it was far too soon. She could change her mind about him at any moment, and Javert decided that he had no right to hold her back if she should decide to do so.

"What would you like to be?" he asked in response.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I want to stay friends and I want to still be able to talk to each other. But I… I have feelings for you. And I don't want to have to ask before I kiss you."

"It would be inappropriate to do so in public."

"No no, I know," she defended herself quickly, "I just mean how we are right now. When we're alone. What do you think? Please, just tell me the full truth." She looked up at him with such pleading, trusting eyes that Javert could not do anything but tell her how he felt.

He sighed before beginning. "I… I feel how you feel. But it would be inappropriate to be seen out together in public. We are not courting, we are not married. I care for you. But we cannot be seen that way in public, it is inappropriate." _Not to mention my men will never shut up with their gossip of us_, he almost said. "But in private, limited affections would not be altogether offensive to any party-"

"-so when we're here, do I have to go through fits of anxiety every time I want to kiss you?"

Javert was sure Lilybet knew the answer to that very well- but no, she always wanted to hear it straight. "No." he said firmly.

She laced her thin fingers through his thick, scarred ones. "So we'll just be… together." She concluded simply. Javert just nodded at her; she seemed pleased enough with the option.

For the rest of the night, they sat and looked through the book. Lilybet talked admiringly of the rebels that had renounced the English crown; Javert called them traitors who got lucky.

"Weren't you an officer during Napoleon's reign? Have you always been a monarchist?" she asked.

"I follow and enforce the rules that have been given. They were created to keep the public safe; what weight would they bear if one could simply decide to shrug them off?"

"France even assisted the Americans!"

"I did not."

"Fair enough." They looked through the rest of the book without debate, poring over maps and copies of letters sent in secret correspondences. Though he may not have agreed with them, Javert was very much interested in how such a small and shoddy group rose to defeat the British Empire using next to nothing but their spirit.

Throughout the whole reading, Javert noticed how closely they sat. They shared the book, one side on his knee and the other on hers, and she leaned in close to him, leaning her shoulder against his. At times, their hands would meet when flipping a page. Once, he had gone to turn it but Lilybet had not been done. She look his hand to stop him, said "I'm not done yet", gave him a smile- not her usually grin, but a real, sincere smile- and kissed his hand. He did not protest as she did it; Javert was still getting used to these little acts of affection and, though a small part of him still insisted that he was meant to be alone, he found that each one brought him closer to something: what it was, he did not know, but he hoped against all odds that he would find out.

"It's five minutes past midnight!" Lilybet exclaimed when they were nearly at the end of the book. The world had finished yet another rotation around the sun while they were too busy immersed in another century to notice. This time last year, Javert was patrolling the streets by himself, fully convinced that he had his life exactly where it needed to be. Now here he was, sitting in the kitchen of the girl he had known for so long who, last year, he was convinced he would never see again. He was spending the holiday with someone who cared about him enough to give him a birthday.

She turned up to Javert. "Happy New Year" she said before craning up to kiss him. Already it felt more comfortable for Javert to respond to it.

"I wish you all the best in 1832." He tried his best to give a small smile, though he was aware that merely tightening his lips might not have resulted in the desired effect.

"Don't run away on me again" Lilybet said, seemingly out of the blue, "not so suddenly. If you have to leave, tell me. Even if I can't go with you tell me. Please."

Javert looked into her pleading blue-gray eyes. He knew that it was impossible to assume he would never leave, and he was grateful she did not ask him to. The law was his life, and wherever it carried him he had to follow willingly. But to tell her would be to hurt her.

_To not tell her would hurt her even more_.

"Alright." Javert nodded to her.

"Promise me? As a resolution for 1832."

He remembered Lilybet's look of betrayal a decade ago as she handed him her white flower. How she had only just forgiven him last week on the balcony. He hurt her deeply by that, he saw that now.

"I promise." He said.

"And if there's anything I can do for you-"

"-you have done more than I deserve-"

"-not even close. So don't be afraid or think it's improper or anything. You know me. Just come talk to me."

They sat in silence, contemplating the possibilities of what the next three hundred and sixty five days had in store for them.

"I must go." Javert announced at a quarter past twelve. He was then inhibited by Lilybet, who left only to return a few minutes later with a cup of black coffee.

"You'll have to keep up your energy." she said, handing it to him. Javert drank it dutifully, more out of politeness than anything else.

When he was done, she retrieved his hat and coat. They stood at the foot of the stairs facing each other. Javert, having carefully wrapped the book back up, held it under his arm.

"Thank you. For all of this." He finally said. Hearing the simple words, he did not feel that they did justice to how he felt at the moment. Javert looked down at Lilybet. She cared for him, gave him a birthday and a New Years, and was determined to make him happy. He briefly wondered if she loved him in return.

"Of course. Next year we'll give you a proper birthday. You know, on your actual birthday." She walked him downstairs and they stood by the door. Lilybet reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, just standing there and trying to get as close as possible. Javert reached up his available arm and held her as well, wishing that things were different. That he came from a better background and was twenty years younger. As if reading his mind, she added, "Don't ever change who you are. Stay safe."

With that, Javert bowed good evening and went out into the street. As soon as his boot heels clicked on the cold stone streets, he immediately straightened. It was perhaps a minute before he was once again the ruthless Inspector Javert and people made extra effort to part the streets for when he passed.


	29. Chapter 28

**_Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback everyone! :D I will put the fluffy chapter in a bit later on, I'm trying to get the story moving along. Again, thank you sososo much for reading, enjoy!_**

* * *

January followed February in quick succession and, though spring was rapidly approaching, a chill was slowly creeping over the Parisian population. The beggars were getting more and more insistent, in some cases to the point that Javert and his men had to physically stop them from climbing into carriages and assaulting the people within.

March brought with it whispers- shadows that brought disquiet with them and muddled Javert's thoughts. Whispers of secret meetings, of citizens.

Of rebellion.

Naturally, such whispers made their way up the ranks and Javert was soon issued an alert that he was to be promoted to Inspecteur Général. The previous one had stepped down citing medical reasons, yet the news of his fear of another revolution plagued and dishonored his resignation. Javert, who was known up and down to be competent and having a spotless record of service, was recommended by the Prefect himself. Although his office remained the same, he was given a new uniform to match his position: he traded in his navy blue for black, with a silver collar denoting his position with epaulettes to match. He wore on it his red medal, a token given to him when he left the army.

It was not an officially given medal, but on the day his service ended and he was to be sent to Toulon as an assistant prison guard (an ironic twist that, to this day, Javert was sure he was given intentionally), his commanding officer came to give him his papers. Before he left the room, the man beckoned Javert closer. He then put the medal in his hand. Javert still remembered, clear as day, the cold metal of the medal on his palm and the strong, kind voice that spoke to him.

"You will be leaving on the morrow, boy. Take this. I know where you came from and I know that it hasn't been an easy climb for you. I know you won't be telling many people about your past, but you needed to be commemorated somehow. You were born an urchin and rose to be a man of the law. I see great things happening for you. Take this medal as a sign of your bravery and spirit and remember to keep fighting for what you believe in, no matter how bleak the outcome looks."

He fingered the dark gold star as he remembered. Javert hardly remembered what the captain even looked like, and yet he was the first to see Javert's value and commend him on his personal triumph.

It was his first day in the uniform and Javert rode proudly on his black stallion through the streets. Normally, the Inspecteur Général dispatched others to patrol in his place, but Javert was told that he was too efficient a patrolman to give up. So far, the only thing that had changed was extra meetings with the Prefect and several other defense heads and about an hour's worth of extra paperwork each day.

When he told Lilybet of the promotion a week ago, she was thrilled. When he told her of the reason, the thrill gave way to trepidation.

"S-so in case anything happens-"

"-I will be charged with leading the police force and assisting the National Guard against the rebels."

She stomped her foot in agitation and balled her fists at her sides, reminding Javert of their twenty-one year age difference. "Why you? Why?"

"I would think it to be a combination of my extensive military training, record of success, and good relations with Monsieur Vipond."

Lilybet put her hand on her forehead and felt behind her until she found a chair to fall down on. Javert took a few steps towards her to make sure she was alright.

"I try and help you make a good impression on the man and for what? So he can send you off into danger" she murmured, he suspected more to herself than to him.

"I will stop any danger before it has the chance to flourish. They are only rumors, it is merely a precaution. If these so-called 'revolutionaries' are too cowardly to even show their faces, they cannot be much of a threat." He put his hand on the back of her chair and she immediately gripped it hard. Lilybet did not shift her gaze, still staring straight ahead nervously at something Javert could not see. He bent over so that he was eye level with her.

"I don't want to love you."

"Love?"

"Lose. I said lose. I don't want to lose you. Not that way." She blinked and looked in his direction with the vague surprise that suggested that she had not been entirely aware of his presence. Javert tightened his lips and sighed, straightening himself. He was almost positive that she had said love, what could it mean?

Most likely a slip of the tongue, his common sense told him. Nothing worth looking into.

Javert was snapped out of his flashback only to find that he had turn onto her street as a matter of habit. He had made a point to make it a part of his patrol route each morning, and they would look at each other for a few brief seconds and nod before Javert rode past and Lilybet went on to her sweeping. It wasn't much of anything, but it was something he looked forward to on the days he did it.

Sure enough, he saw her straight ahead as she unlocked her shop door, emptied her requests bin, and came back outside with the broom. She raised her blue-gray eyes to look at him and he watched as they widened briefly, taking in his new uniform. Lilybet looked him up and down before meeting his eyes again, giving a small smile while still managing to go on with her work perfectly. Javert had to admit, her subtlety was impressive. He gave her his customary expressionless nod and she raised her eyebrows and nodded towards her house. She knew very well that he would not come in while on duty, but Javert made it a point to stop in on his way home if it was not too late after work in the evening.

Having no way to convey this, he simply raised his hand slightly to her and replaced it on the rein again before moving on ahead. It seemed that she was impressed by the new uniform; yet he suspected that when he told her of the reason it was given and reminded her of the responsibilities of his new position, she would not be so enthused.

Javert had not visited Lilybet in nearly a week- it would not look good on him to be seen entering her home so frequently as an unmarried couple. People were already talking; another set of whispers for Javert to deal with. The little snippets he had caught ever since their soup day had only grown more and more frequent since the ball. He wondered if Lilybet heard them too- did they frighten her? Intimidate her? It was completely understandable if it was so: being linked to the old, dour Inspector must have frightened away other potential suitors.

And then he would remember how she told him she cared about him and tell himself that she did mean everything she said. There _were _no potential suitors. That maybe she was God's way of answering his devout nightly prayers for the path to salvation.

If so, he wondered if God could not have sent a more manageable answer, or if He just got amusement out of seeing Javert squirm.

* * *

Elisabet's eyes followed Javert as he rode around the corner and out of sight. Her tongue felt dry and she realized that her mouth had been hanging slightly open, watching him ride by her in a new uniform. It really suited him; the silver epaulettes highlighted his broad shoulders and the black color gave him a commanding and imposing look. She smiled to herself. She'd known him for ten years and he still managed to make her feel like a gawking schoolgirl.

It was a warm April morning. Elisabet raised her eyes to the sky; only one or two clouds could be seen drifting through the blue.

Her past three months with Javert had been as frustrating as they were wonderful. She did like their little moments in the morning, but that was almost all the time that they spent together. He visited her once every week or so and they would just talk and, usually, go on for hours. That was one of the best things about Javert- she could talk to him about anything. He would tell her about his day and she would tell him; sometimes, they would exchange stories of their past and things that happened during their nine year separation. The fact that Elisabet could hold his hand while they spoke was just an added bonus.

But that was really as far as it went.

Javert always spoke of the places outside of Paris he had been to as Inspector, the port-markets with strange spices and silks. Elisabet would tell him of the countryside where she grew up and Javert would mention a lovely field just outside of Paris. But when Elisabet asked him if they could go, his answer was always the same.

"We are an unwed couple, it would be most improper"

When she offered to hold his arm when he would walk her to her home: "Ware not married, it would look scandalous."

Sometimes, she just wanted to shake him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that she would like nothing more than to be wed to him. But Javert was just convinced that she would be embarrassed to be seen together, to the point that she had to hide it from her friends.

It hit her occasionally that maybe he just didn't want to be seen with her.

She wasn't stupid, she had been hearing some of the gossip (via Renee and Rachel, mostly) about herself and Javert. What made her dislike it was the fact that it was assumed that she was Javert's "young mistress". Now, she did love him, but Elisabet Barbier was nobody's mistress. Other than that, it made her feel proud in a way, to be linked to the powerful, strong Inspector Javert. It made her proud that people looked so respectfully up at him on his horse, but that he was hers.

Well, not technically hers. But close enough for her to think of it that way in her head.

Though Javert was a part of her life that grew larger every day, subtle strangeness started worming its way into other aspects of Elisabet's life. The basement of the café was closed- "for renovation" they said. The schoolboys who she employed had been coming less and less ever since they got back from their winter break. Grantaire –her drunkard of a dear - who used to come nearly five days a week (to make money, she suspected, yet she liked to tell herself that she really was good company), now normally came two or three; the same as little Gavroche. The Marius boy they had brought on that one day months ago came more regularly with them now, still retaining his determination for civility that told Elisabet that he was quite a few classes above his friends and herself, no matter how hard he tried to pretend to the contrary.

Whose apparent change had disturbed her most, however, was that of Enjolras.

The lively, charming boy had aged at least fifteen years over his break; he had slowly grown more solemn, coming in maybe a few times per month and even then, Elisabet always chided him for standing off in the corner whispering with the other boys instead of working. A darkness had descended over his features, and yet what perplexed her most was his eyes. Whereas they were once filled with a youthful vigor, the vigor turned into a hard determination. To say that they were flames would be an understatement: they were wildfires.

Elisabet's curiosity often got the better of her; she would go to his comrades and ask them what was going on with him.

"He has a lot to deal with."

"It isn't my place to say."

"He'll tell you when he's ready."

Those were the answers she always got. Utterly at a loss, she had gone directly to the source on one occasion. Elisabet had found him in the basement, discussing something in hushed tones with Marius.

"Hey," Elisabet barked, "do I pay you to gossip like hens? Pontmercy, back to the front, the flowers need watering. Enjolras, let me see the inventory."

"My apologies, Mademoiselle." Marius hurriedly glanced at Enjolras before scurrying up the stairs.

Enjolras handed Elisabet a half-finished inventory and she looked up from it, exasperated. "You've had nearly three hours! Surely you have more than this."

"Sorry." He muttered, before taking the paper back and heading over to count bunches.

"Alexandre," Elisabet called. He turned right away; when she called him by his first name, Enjolras knew to listen. At least that part of him was still intact. She cupped his cheek with her hand- it was a far reach, she was convinced that he grew at least a few centimeters over his month-long holiday, he must have been half a head taller than Javert now- and searched his features. "What's going on with you? You've been acting so differently, what change has come over you?"

He took her hand and stared back into her eyes. Elisabet almost felt like his eyes were burning her. "The change that will soon come over the streets of Paris."

Elisabet grimaced in confusion at his cryptic response, slightly alarmed at his intensity. "What?"

And just like that, it was gone and the shadow descended upon his face once more. "I must get back to work." He said, turning away and returning to his count.

Though that occurrence happened some two weeks ago, Elisabet still found herself thinking about it like it was yesterday. She had also noticed the poor getting more and more restless, their begging more often becoming physical confrontations with the police- she knew that better than anyone: no doctor would see them, so Elisabet had been called as often as she was able to be to assist those who were wounded. Occasionally, she would be cleaning a gash and wonder if Javert was responsible for it.

Judging by the amount of orders she had to prepare today, Elisabet hoped that nobody would be in dire need of her assistance. And so she set to it, gathering and bunching and attending to customers.

When the clock chimed six, she walked over to the window and was just about to change the sign to 'closed'.

It was all she could do to step out of the way in time before the door went flying open.

"Enjolras!" She exclaimed, confused at his sudden appearance. His face was serious, with an urgency lying beneath it. "Come… come in…" she stammered. The blonde boy marched in and shut the door behind her.

"Come." He said, pulling her towards the counter. Elisabet allowed herself to be dragged along, helpless in her confusion. Enjolras took her by the shoulders and stood close, his dark eyes on fire. She stared into them, almost afraid. What was going on? Who was this changed man?

"What is it? What's going on?" she asked, her lip trembling.

He spoke, his voice low and urgent. "I need you to come to the ABC Café in three days' time at six o'clock. Tell only those you trust. It's important."

"Why? What is this?" Elisabet asked, raising her voice in bewilderment.

Enjolras stepped closer in an attempt to calm her down. They were almost nose to nose. "Do you feel the winds rising? Do you see the mice stirring from their holes? Change is blowing through the streets and it demands to be noticed."

"Please." He shook her a little in his impatient passion. "You of all people. You tend to these poor, sick, and dying, you see them every day. We need to get all of Paris on our side." He paused to breath and opened his mouth to speak again. Elisabet was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

The knob twisted and the door creaked open- this time carefully, with caution.

Two black shoes stepped onto the wooden floor. Elisabet trailed her eyes up the black uniform and met a pair of pale green eyes.

She cleared her throat. Enjolras released her, his features tightening into a mask of cold civility. He stood up straight. Elisabet put one hand on the counter to steady herself and used the other to brush a stray piece of hair out of her face.

"Inspector." She greeted, trying to smile. She still wasn't quite sure what was going on. She turned back to Enjolras to continue, but saw that he was staring intently at Javert, and he was staring right back. Elisabet thought to herself that she may as well not exist- or rather, judging by the tension between them, she would rather have not existed. She turned her face back and forth between them as they kept boring into each other. To Elisabet's dismay, it quickly became a battle of wills.

"I thought I saw trouble in here, Mademoiselle." He said to Elisabet in his deep, growling voice; he never took his eyes off of Enjolras.

"No trouble, sir." Enjolras answered coolly before Elisabet even had the chance to open her mouth. "I was merely having a word with the Mademoiselle."

Javert finally broke eye contact to look at Elisabet. To her surprise, his calm expression was permeated by hostile undertones. His eyes seemed to be searching her for conformation.

"We were just finishing a conversation, Monsieur Inspector." Elisabet nodded. "Could you give me just a moment?"

Nobody moved a muscle.

The tension felt so thick that she thought the very air was turning to stone.

Finally, Javert nodded.

Enjolras stared at him, waiting for him to move. Javert stared back, his feet firmly planted on the ground.

Giving up, the boy turned to Elisabet and raised his eyebrows. She was still at a complete loss as to what was going on. She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking.

This is a bad idea, her common sense told her. Anything that could a lively young boy into this is not something to get into.

On the other hand, she did care about the Enjolras. In a way, she was friends with him- with all of them. Maybe this would shed light on what was going on with them. Maybe she could help them.

After a few minutes, Elisabet crossed her arms and gave a sigh. "Fine. I'll be there. Six, you said? Three days from now?"

Enjolras nodded at her, the determination still on his face. He left the shop, stopping only for a split second to spare Javert a calculating glance.

"Inspector." He acknowledged coldly before opening the door and marching out of sight.

Once he was gone, Javert turned towards Elisabet, the same cold look still in his eye. "What happened?" he asked sternly.

Elisabet shrugged her shoulders and looked at him helplessly. "I honestly have no idea. That was Enjolras, you know him, one of the boys that helps me out-"

"-yes." Javert made the word cut through the air like a knife.

Her look turned to one of confusion at his sharpness. "…right… well, he just came in to talk to me-"

"-then why was he holding you like that?"

"Like what?"

"His arms were around you."

"His arms were on my _shoulders_-"

"-why?"

"_I don't know_." She slammed her hand on the counter in frustration. "He came in and he was so urgent, he grabbed my shoulders and started talking to me."

"What was he talking about?"

"Why do you care?"

Javert took a step back. "I do not. I was merely coming to stop by and I see a man holding you close and I wanted to make sure no harm was coming to you."

The truth of what he really meant dawned suddenly on Elisabet. A grin broke across her face and she pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You're _jealous_!"

"I am not. It is my duty to see that no civilians come to harm. I was doing my job."

He looked genuinely offended and Elisabet felt bad. When it came to things one should say and one should keep to themselves, her line was thinner than it should be. Javert came especially to visit her and here she was making him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry." She muttered apologetically. _But you definitely were, _she badly wanted to add. He nodded in acknowledgement and she went on to explain. _Tell only those you trust_, he had said. "He and his friends are just having a gathering about something and he invited me along."

"What kind of gathering?" Javert asked, immediately professional.

"He didn't really say. But don't go telling people. He only told me to tell anyone I trust."

Javert looked to be mulling it over for a moment. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Do not go" he said finally.

"What do you mean 'do not go'?"

"It may be unsafe."

"I know them, they won't hurt me."

"You have heard the whisperings through Paris. Sedition, rebellion, revolution."

Elisabet gave a nervous chuckle. "Those boys come from well-off families, I doubt they would be starting a revolution." Yet even as she said it, everything started to fit together in her head.

No, she thought. No, they wouldn't. They'd never be that foolish, surely. Nevertheless, a chill crept up her back and through all her insides. Elisabet had to hug herself to stop the quivering of her organs.

Javert, noticing this, stepped closer to her until her shoulder practically touched his chest. "No one can be trusted in these times." He said quietly. She looked up at him and noticed that the ice in his gaze melted. His eyes were looking into her heart, entreating her to not go.

"I trust you." She said simply. Javert blinked and looked away. "You're wearing your hat sideways." She observed.

He took it off of his head and tucked it under his arm, clearing his throat. "It is a part of my new uniform." He said dryly. He gave Elisabet a look that made her feel like a five year old for her comment.

She tried to explain herself. "You know, ah, I- I didn't actually think you were… you were wearing it sideways. It was a joke, you know? I'm not actually…" she faded when she saw Javert's cocked eyebrow.

"It was not very funny." He was not smiling –as per usual- but he looked mildly amused nonetheless. She playfully pushed his shoulder and laughed enough for the both of them.

Elisabet took a step back and observed him, head to toe. She put her hands on his shoulders and fingered his epaulettes admiringly. "I really like it." She said, putting it as mildly as she could.

_You look amazing_, she could have said. _I want to be seen next to you like this. You're the most handsome man I've ever seen. I would be proud to be by your side._

Instead, she smiled at him, touching little bits and pieces while Javert looked perfectly pleased with himself. It was simplistic yet powerful- exactly what he needed. No doubt he was getting at least some of an ego boost from this.

"Monsieur Vipond thought it appropriate that since being appointed Inspecteur Général, I would get a new uniform."

Inspecteur Général. Javert couldn't have made a bigger impact on Elisabet if he had punched her in the stomach. She was jolted into remembering the conversation they had when he had first told her of his promotion. What duties it came with. And with his suspicions of Enjolras: what if, God forbid, they were true? She couldn't bear to imagine being pulled into the fray and having to choose between the man she loved and those who were loyal to her. Losing either one… Images began rapidly flashing through her head.

Enjolras, sliced nearly in two.

Javert, riddled with bullets.

Her stomach dropped and she gulped, trying to steady herself. Within moments, she felt Javert's hand under her elbow and the other one on her back to balance her.

"You are overthinking." He told her. Elisabet shook her head, confident that she didn't say a word about what she was thinking, and yet he understood her completely.

"What if I'm not?"

"I am almost certain you are."

"No!" Elisabet shouted now, panic rising within her. "You can't, you can't be certain of something like that. I know what'll happen, you'll tell me everything is fine and then everything will turn upside down. Don't lie to me like I'm a child."

Javert took a step closer and she matched it with a step backwards. "Don't." was all she said. "You can't do this, you can't get hurt. You can't go and die just because someone orders you to, it's your life and yours to choose what to do with. You don't belong to them."

_Nor does he belong to you._

"This revolution is nothing and it will be nothing." Javert spoke gently but with confidence, trying to reason. "If the cowards come out of hiding and attempt anything, the national guard is more than capable of squashing it. I believe that I will only be called in for the clean up."

But then that would mean bad things for Enjolras… and for all she knew, Grantaire and Bossuet and Marius as well. Suddenly, Elisabet felt she needed comfort- any kind of comfort.

_Why should YOU need comfort?_ A voice within her said._ You are not directly involved, people cannot comfort you for their troubles, spoiled child. _The voice sounded remarkably like her father.

She tried to ignore the voice scratching at her- ELisabet wrapped her arms around Javert's middle (She chose not to go around his neck; she didn't just want a hug, she wanted an escape.) and asked him to hug her. He put his arms around her in his loose way: not because he did not like to do it, she knew, but because he felt it was 'improper'.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice muffled, "a real hug. Not this. Just hold me as tight as you can. Please." To her surprise, Javert obeyed immediately. He held her as tight as he did that night on the balcony. She felt his chest rising and falling as be breathed. She closed her eyes and listened to the beating of his living, healthy heart and smelled him; though it was a new uniform, his scent was just the same. His arms were a fortress where no one would ever harm her. "I don't want to lose you like that. I feel so much safer when you're holding me." She muttered. The comment felt stupid, childish. Until he replied.

"It is the only time I do not worry about you." He replied, his voice just as hesitant, but sure and matter-of-fact. In that moment, she wanted to tell him how she truly felt. Her mouth open and shut a few times like a fish struggling for air. Maybe, the schoolgirl within her thought, if I tell him I love him, he won't go fight.

Elisabet never would know if she would have gone through with it, because at that moment, a yelp from just outside her window made her look up. She barely noticed the fact that even though she loosened her grip, Javert held her just as tight.

"Ohhh God" she groaned. Why was it that every time she was drowning in her emotions, the wolves descended upon her?

Rachel was clutching Renee's arm, bending over in surprise. Elisabet had not seen Rachel in nearly a month. The brunette's mouth was open in a delighted way, her red lips a ring that took up at least a third of her face.

"Oh my _God_-" The rest of her words were cut off by Renee's hand flying to cover her mouth, who looked at Elisabet sheepishly through the glass. Clearly, she had meant this to be stealthier.

Javert let go immediately and stood straight, looking so embarrassed that Elisabet was temporarily overcome with guilt.

"I-I'm so sorry-"

"-it is alright." Javert said in a way that didn't make it seem alright at all.

Rachel pointed to the door and raised her eyebrows. Elisabet shrugged, annoyed at them. They were there, they might as well come inside.

"Inspector." They each greeted him as everyone did, but without concealing their smiles.

Javert bowed to both. "Madames." He returned.

Elisabet tried to begin to explain. "The Inspector was-"

"-just investigating a disturbance I thought was occurring in Mademoiselle Barbier's shop. Good day." Javert lied briskly. He bowed again and gathered his dignity. He turned away, his head hanging ever so slightly.

Elisabet could not let him leave like that. She couldn't let this go on. She wasn't ashamed, she wanted people to know. Damn the gossipers, she decided. I'm happy and I don't care what they might say.

"No." she said. He stopped, not turning around. She looked at her friends. "I asked Inspector Javert to pay me a visit. As it happens, I'm rather fond of him."

Instead of laughing, Renee and Rachel's faces turned remarkably kind. Javert spun around. He stood behind them and looked at her with surprise.

"An Inspector, eh?" Rachel teased playfully, "My my, don't _we _have high standards?"

"Good for you, Lilybet dear." Renee cupped her cheek affectionately "As long as you're happy with it, all is well". If her friends were judging anything about his reputation, age, or her own personality, they didn't show it, and for that Elisabet was grateful.

"Why are you two here? Just wanted to come spy on me?"

"Well, actually, Rachel and I met up and I was informed of the reason for why we have been deprived of her company for so long!" Renee made a grand gesture with her hands. Rachel removed her shawl and stood profile to Elisabet.

She couldn't see much, but the bump on her stomach sent Elisabet into a fit of girlish celebration with her friends that made her temporarily forget poor Javert, frozen, watching them like animals in a safari.

"When's the baby due?!" Elisabet asked.

"Mid November" Rachel returned, her whole being so strongly glowing with motherhood that Elisabet wondered why she had not noticed it the month before. She kissed her friend on both cheeks and congratulated her.

"We were going to see if you wanted to come to dinner with us. Lesgle is going off with those schoolboys again and Richard is away on business, so we have the night to ourselves. But now I see we don't have our dependable old maid anymore." Renee smirked.

Elisabet flushed. "Shut it," she said, the smile refusing to leave her face. It felt good, that they associated her with him. She gestured her friends closer. "But… we're not courting or anything, we're just, you'll think I'm so strange, we're just… together. So don't let anything get out. Please. I'm nobody's mistress, it's nothing like that. Just keep it to yourselves."

Whereas Renee looked disappointed, Rachel nodded sympathetically. "We understand. Of course."

"Well that isn't any fun." Since it would not do to retaliate to a pregnant woman, Renee just shuffled a few steps to her left when Rachel elbowed her in the arm for her comment. "Well, we should be leaving then. Have fun here!" Elisabet bid her friends goodbye and when they were at the door, she turned to look at Javert, still frozen in the corner.

"I am so, so, _so_, sorry about that." She said to him. "I didn't know they would be coming, really. Look, I'll lock up the shop. We can sit upstairs, you can tell me what this new job of yours is like." She shuddered when she remembered the conversation of only a little while ago. "Besides, you know, what I already know." She added.

"Why did you tell them?" he asked.

"Well… well because I didn't want you to leave. I'm sick of hiding this, I'm sick of pretending that there's no one here and that you and I are barely acquaintances. I want it to be like the ball, but all the time. I'd be proud to stand with you. I am."

Javert looked at her, his head cocked slightly to the right. "You mean that?"

"Yes!" Elisabet laughed, exasperated. How long was it going to take to get it through to him that she cares? Then, the doubts hit. Her shoulders slumped and she backed off a bit. "Unless… I'm sorry, I should have asked you if you were okay with me telling them. I'm really, really sorry. You have a problem with me telling them, don't you?"

"No." he responded, making her raise her head in surprise.

"Really?"

"I thought that I had embarrassed you."

"What? No, you could never! Never." Elisabet took a few steps and stood close to Javert. She stood as tall as she could and put her hands on the back of his head and kissed him. "Let's go on an outing." She smiled.

"An outing? That may not be proper considering we are not courting-"

"-we've gone out together before! The soup, remember?"

"And my men gossiped on about it for days afterwards."

"But it's different. This time it would be true, so it wouldn't be gossip, just spreading news. Come on. Let's go to one of those countrysides outside of Paris you keep telling me about. We can go for a day and come back. We'll have a fun time, I guarantee you'll have as much fun as you're able to have."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I've seen you smile maybe three times ever."

"Why should I smile at every little thing? It is unnecessary."

"So is being snarky, but you do it anyway."

"You do both."

"And I'm perfectly happy with it." Elisabet cocked her eyebrow.

"I must get back to the police station by eight."

"Well that gives us a little under an hour and a half. Come on upstairs?"

"Thank you."

Javert followed Elisabet up and she had almost succeeded in pushing the dread from her mind.

They're only schoolboys, what do they know of war? She shook her head at her silly fears. Everything will be fine. As long as Javert is here and my boys are well, everything will be fine.

Elisabet would see to it that they would have an outing so wonderful that after wards Javert would _have _to fall in love with her.


	30. Chapter 29

**_Author's Note: Thank you everyone for your patience! This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, and there will be more coming for it ASAP, but I just felt there was so much going on that putting it all into one chapter was just a brain overload (I had gotten feedback earlier from one of you saying you would prefer one long chapter to one split in half like I had done before, so that's why I'm explaining that this isn't so much the case of that as a case of overkill) Also, to the person who asked where I am so they would be able to gauge my promised chapter dates better: I'm living in Connecticut, USA. Thanks again so much for reading, hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! :)_**

* * *

"Dress in something nondescript" Enjolras had told her. And Elisabet had listened, leaving her house now wearing a plain, sand-colored dress. She had tied her hair up in a haphazard bun, so that it bobbed and threatened to undo itself every time she walked.

There were people hovering about the café; they gave Elisabet sideways glances as she passed by. The ones who knew by sight her gave her confused looks, in turn confusing _her _even further. There were a few officers patrolling the area like sharks hunting for a kill. Nerves pricked her insides like needles at the thought of what was lying ahead.

She smelled the woody-alcoholic scent of the café as soon as she pushed the door open. Already she regretted coming. Perhaps Javert was right, perhaps there was danger in store.

It was probably his damn paranoia just rubbing off on her.

"You're actually here!" a voice made Elisabet spin around. Grantaire stood in front of her, still sober, holding out a mug full of what looked like red wine. She took it and wetted her lips- for some reason, she just didn't feel like drinking tonight.

"Ah, yeah," Elisabet began, feeling unsure, "Enjolras stopped by a few days ago and asked me to come. I just want to know what's going on."

"Don't worry," he nodded to her, "if you don't know already you'll find out tonight. He just didn't want it spreading to the wrong people, so he's kept it pretty closed."

"Well, I _would _have probably gotten it out of him if Jav-" she abruptly cut herself off. If this was anything like what Javert suspected, mentioning him here would only do harm.

Damn it all, she thought, sucking in a breath. Elisabet made a mental note to repair the filter between her mind and her mouth. Or, rather, build it.

But it was too late. Grantaire're face turned uncharacteristically severe and he stood close, speaking quietly. "You told that Inspector?" Though Rachel and Renee now knew about her and Javert, the boys were still in the dark. They surely must have noticed their increased contact, what with her leaving to go to the police station some days and him coming on some evenings. The most that was ever exchanged was a wary look or a sharp, civil glace and a curt nod. If they had heard any of the rumors or thought anything of it, they did not discuss it with her.

"I didn't tell him anything!" Elisabet put her hands up defensively. "I don't even know what this is about, how could I tell him anything?" That was mostly true, anyway.

Grantaire opened his mouth like he was about to speak when they were all called to attention.

Enjolras stood up on a table towards the center. "Friends, brothers," he glanced at Elisabet and the few other women in the audience, "and sisters. Hear me now." Elisabet's eyes swept the crowd. The little café was nearly packed with not just university students, but also people Elisabet's age and older. None of them looked like the poor Enjolras had referred to before, but their clothing was not the best and they all had a haggard look about their eyes. They made Elisabet feel self-conscious of her crisp, clean brown dress. At least most of the boys were well dressed as well.

The deep silence that fell was interrupted when another man wearing a patched vest walked through the door, standing in the back. Everyone turned briefly to look at him before returning their attention to the front.

Enjolras continued, "You have shivered on the street whilst the so-called "civilized society" wipe beads of sweat off of their foreheads from sitting close to their heating stoves. You have watched them feed their dogs better than you can feed your children. Day after day, they are too frightened to meet the eyes of their fellow man and too niggardly to spare even a sous from their vast piles. In the year 1789, the people united and rose against a tyrant and all the wrongs of the aristocracy. In 1793, they executed that tyrant and a world of equality was born. But they could not maintain it, and we have fallen once again to a life of oppression. We have wizened and learned from our past failures and it has come time again to rise as one against the unfairness and evil. Against the king whose arse grows too fat for his throne. Against the locks they place in the alleyways. Against the twisted justice and the corrupt lawmen who enforce it. What's more, we are not alone. General Jean Maximilien Lamarque stands on the side of the people. " A wave of approving murmurs rippled through the crowd. Enjolras nodded his head, pleased at the effect he was creating. "We must be patient and lay low; when the time comes, we must be ready."

Elisabet took several steps back and bumped into a man behind her. After apologizing, her hand went to her heart. It was happening, it was really happening. Javert was right. A mix of emotions danced furiously within her. Part of her was guilty, having the same feeling she got at the events these people so hated: that she was looking into this world from a window. If they knew of her life and how she lived, she very much doubted that she would be welcome among them. No matter how much she liked to act otherwise, in the end these people would be curled up on dirty straw mats tonight while she cuddled with a blanked on her comfortable mattress. What made her any more worthy than them to live a safe life? And yet, her cowardice at even imagining herself on the street shamed her further. She would help with money and most medical needs, she would even shelter them if the need was there, but she would not trade places. She was too soft to make it in that life. Tears of guilt stung her eyes and she looked upwards to stop them from flowing.

Suddenly, she felt like someone slapped her across the face. Enjolras was ready to die for this cause. So was Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Bossuet, Pontmercy, and even little Gavroche. No. They were only boys, playing at something they knew nothing about. They hadn't even begun to live their lives.

Javert was ready to die to stop their cause. She had to admit it: he was not a young man. It was very possible that, win or lose, he would not come out of this alive. And he had often said that going out in the line of duty was the most noble way to end.

No. This could not happen. Childishly, Elisabet thought that she could talks some sense into them. She pushed past people towards Enjolras, her mind reeling wildly for something, anything to say.

Another boy, Courfeyrac disentangled himself from the crowd and stood on the table beside Enjolras. Elisabet was right at their feet now. His mop of black curls quivered as he addressed the mass of people. "Are you sick and weary of the oppression of so many by so few?" he called. The crowd responded with a roar, the alcohol and adrenaline working through them now. "Are you ready to unite under one banner and reclaim our nation?" The roar was louder this time. "The time is coming for the people to rise!" He thrust his first into the air. The corner of Enjolras' lips turned upwards into what Elisabet thought was the smallest and tightest smile she had ever seen, seemingly pleased.

She turned towards the boy who was closest to her- It was Marius. Elisabet grabbed his collar and pulled him roughly to her. "This is madness, surely you see that." She said through gritted teeth.

"This is the future!' he responded eagerly.

"Marius, you-" but the rest of her words were cut off; the sound of glass shattering turned everyone towards the wall.

A man, clearly far past drunk, raised a broken wine bottle over his head. "Why wait? Let's go out and get 'em! Long live the revolution! Stand and _fight_!"

"No, you fool!" Enjolras called to him. But it was too late.

"Why d'we have a _boy_ preachin' patience when we can fight now like men? Come on, let's get out there!"

Whether they were drunk on the euphoria or the complementary alcohol Enjolras had provided to entice some to come, Elisabet did not know. Either way, nearly twenty five other people followed him outside and they shouted, waving bottles and sticks and anything else they could find. The man who came in late fired his gun into the air, stirring the crowd further.

Enjolras and Courfeyrac had hopped off of the table and were now trying to restrain anyone they could.

"Hold your peace!" Feuilly was shouting, but to no avail. Combferre and Bahorel had even run out to join them. The world was moving so fast around Elisabet; she felt like a stone in the middle of a rushing river. She felt a sudden anger- anger at Javert, for being right, anger at Enjolras, for thinking this would go well, and anger at herself, for being so blind.

She took Enjolras roughly by the shoulder and pulled him down to her level. "Idiot boy!" she shouted, reminding herself of a man who admonished a young, idealistic girl for wanting to see goodness in the world. "You can't do this! It's a death sentence!"

"Those who die for the greater good live on forever." He replied, his face hard. He ripped away from her and bolted outside, calling for everyone to cease. Elisabet ran to the window, not daring to go out.

Police were in the streets now, battling with the rioters. How could they have all come so fast? Did Javert think she lied to him, and planned an ambush? She watched in horror as the man who was the cause of it all went down, one of his hands lying some five feet away. The boys that weren't joining in the madness were rounding up as many of their own as they could and pushing them back into the café for safety.

Another group of officers had turned onto t he street, armed and ready.

They were being led by Javert.

* * *

Instructions had been sent to try and not spill more blood than necessary, so Javert ordered the men to keep their pistols in holsters and instead keep their batons at the ready. He marched the backup force onto the street.

"Go! Spill no blood unless you are in danger. Arrest and round up those who try to resist you." The men did as he commanded. Javert turned to survey the scene. His eyes flickered briefly up to the window he knew was Lilybet's flat. The windows were closed, the curtains pulled. Surely it would not look out of place if he went in when this scuffle was over with; it was his duty to make sure the people of Paris were safe, and when something like this happened… well, he was worried. Javert could not imagine what he would do if she was hurt.

A man broke from the throng and rushed at Javert with what looked like a chair leg in his hands. Javert methodically and calmly stepped to the side and the man, caught off-balance by his own intertia, stumbled. Javert rapped him hard across the shoulder blades with his baton and the wretch went down unconscious. Javert kicked him carelessly to the side without another thought.

Two more came at him and he stopped them with the same cold, calculating efficiency as he had the first. However, the last one had managed to strike him a blow to the chest. It was not a serious one by any means, but Javert was winded and had to lean his hands on his knees for a moment to catch his breath. It was moments like these that took him by the neck and forced him to remember his age. He was forty seven now; his prime was behind him.

After a few minutes, Javert stood straight again and looked around. To his disappointment, there were a couple of officers down, but more rioters. This was why any rebellion would not last; a Parisian officer of the law was worth five common, drunken beggars.

He recognized a few boys from Lilybet's shop. Tempted as he was to arrest them, he couldn't because they were legally not participating in the brawl. Instead, they were trying to break it up by pushing their comrades back into the café. He looked at the rickety building and saw several who had the common sense to not throw their lives away standing within.

His eyes scanned the area until they froze on a girl with a messy, honey-brown bun and blue gray eyes.

It was as if everything around him had turned to darkness. The shouts and cries had turned to silence as he stared into Lilybet's eyes. She looked positively horrified.

Javert was blindsided by anger. He stared at her, transfixed. He told her not to come. He told her it was dangerous.

Could it be that she knew that? She knew what was going on, and it was organizing this riot that was the reason behind her intimate encounter with the Enjolras boy?

It occurred to him that she might have been using him all along. Well, it did not work. Javert reported his news of what she told him to the prefect. Javert came up with the idea to send a mole in to infiltrate them, to watch them closely. It seemed they had been planning a meeting of great importance, so that mole was personally instructed by Javert to go to this meeting armed with a pistol and, should anything occur, fire it once into the air as a signal to bring the forces in.

And yet Javert could not convince himself that she was trying to use him. Or rather, he did not let himself. But it would have worked all too perfectly; one convincing lie could keep Javert and his men away from the rumors and secrets if he had not been so acutely suspicious. He may not have been a learned man, but Javert was not a stupid one. Could everything that happened the past few months been a ruse? This did not make Javert angry, as he would have suspected. It made him ashamed. Ashamed that this impenetrable officer was so starved for a bit of compassion that he really believed a lively youth was interested in him for nothing. He had the desire to turn the baton on himself as punishment for his stupidity.

Above all of this, he was afraid.

Do not come outside, he thought, hoping she somehow felt his words. If she came out to join her friends, he would have no choice but to arrest her. Worse yet, she could very well be killed.

The dam inside of him was overflowing, his emotions sloshing around. The pain manifested itself in his spine as Javert felt himself to be paralyzed. He fell to his knees and heard his bones whack against the stones.

Never once did he lose hold of her eyes.

* * *

The pain couldn't have been greater if the pipe had slammed into Elisabet's own back. She watched Javert fall to his knees. He wore the oddest look of confusion, as if he wasn't sure what was happening or why he was even there. Bahorel ran from the crowd. He slammed a stolen baton he picked up into Javert's stomach and he doubled over.

Elisabet's mind stopped. She slammed into the wall a few times in a blind effort to find the door.

Javert had tried to fight when he saw them above him, but they had already overwhelmed him. He was hit a few more times, each blow making Elisabet sprint faster.

She pounced like a lioness on a wounded animal and threw her arms out in between Javert and the men.

"Please!" was all she could choke out, her hair breaking out of the ribbon and now cascading down her back. She heard Javert's short breaths behind her. She couldn't bear to look at him. Bahorel, had pulled back for another hit but stopped short as if someone had seized his arm, staring at her. The man tried to push her aside but she fought back with all the strength she had and, before she knew it, she was caught in a struggle with him.

Bahorel took the man by the shoulder. "I know her!" He turned to Elisabet. "What are you-"

"-Please," she panted, holding back tears, "leave him be. He won't fight you back, he can't even stand."

The unknown man spat over his shoulder and turned to Bahorel with a look of disgust. "This her father?" he asked like a person asking what cut of cow a steak was at a butcher shop.

"No, he isn't." Elisabet answered first. Her hands hovered over Javert so she could feel his warmth, but she dared not touch him for fear he would disintegrate into dust between her fingers. "But he means the world to me. I love him." She turned to the boy to plead with him. "Please, spare him. For the friendship and respect you bear me. Please just leave him be and he won't bother you anymore. Look, I'll take him to my shop. Please, Bahorel."

He stared at her with his little dark eyes for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Bahorel turned to his companion. "Leave the old man, there are plenty more around us still up and fighting."

After a glance of what Elisabet was sure was the most hate the man could muster, he spat again at the space where Javert lay and the two ran off back into the fray. Elisabet sat a moment, gratefulness washing over her like rain in the desert. She said a quick, silent prayer. She wondered if Javert had heard her declaration. She had imagined thousands of times the thousands of different ways she would go about expressing her love, each more creative and romantic than the last. This was certainly nothing like what she thought.

She turned and looked down at Javert, who stared back through squinting eyes. Wordlessly, she took him by the arm and slung much of his weight over her shoulder. Elisabet couldn't tell if he was trying to resist or if he was simply that heavy.

"Please don't fight me right now." She grunted out. A sound escaped his lips as Javert allowed himself to be half-assisted half-dragged down the street. Elisabet opened her door and took one last look at the scene. It seemed as if much of the fighting was dying down, the police coming out victorious. Men who were not unconscious or inside were being rounded up and bound with rope; nobody seemed to pay her and Javert any mind.

That is, until she saw the figure of Enjolras all the way back at the doors of the café, turned unblinking in her direction.


	31. Chapter 30

**_Author's Note: I know there's no good excuse for this awfully late update so I'd just like to issue a big fat I AM SO SORRY IT WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN I PROMISE! I was faced with crippling writer's block, AP studying, and preparations for my brother's wedding in mid-july. If this is meh I'm sorry! Again, writer's block is a helluva problem. I really hope you like the chapter, the next one will be up soon I promise! Let me know if you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for my readers who have been sticking to this story! Love you guys!_**

* * *

Javert had always thought of himself as having two lives: when he was a nobody, speeding on the road to hell, and when he turned around and began his trip the other way, starting with his assistant-guard position in Toulon.

This was the most embarrassed he'd ever felt in this one, he decided as he struggled to keep himself upright and not totally collapse on Lilybet.

_He means the world to me. I love him._

Could she have meant it? Truly meant it? Or did she just say it to inspire pity enough pity in them to spare him? If that was the case, she should have left him there. He would rather have had that than anyone's pity.

If she was using him, why would she throw herself into the fray where she could have just as easily gotten killed? Why would she throw herself in between Javert and the rebels?

But that was only half of what occupied his mind; Javert now had no way of knowing what was going on outside aside from the distant shouts. His men knew to arrest them, surely they did.

And yet Javert felt he was doing them a great disservice for not being there to lead them. He had no right to escape like a beaten dog with his tail between his legs while the officers he led were fighting these mongrels.

"Can you make it up the stairs?" she asked from somewhere under him, very short of breath. Javert tried to stand on his own. He raised a leg and placed it on the first stair. He leaned forward and tried to put some weight on it.

As if he did not feel humiliated enough, Javert's knee shook so fiercely that he stumbled and had to be caught by Lilybet, who almost buckled under his weight.

"Unf. I guess not. Let's- ugh- take you here." He felt her tremble as she turned them around and began walking the other way into a back room. This was nonsense; men got hurt in battle all the time. Javert was no different. He should not be dependent on a young woman. He tried to push off of her and stand on his own. Lilybet caught him just before he fell to the ground.

"If you make me drop you so help me I will LEAVE you there!" she threatened halfheartedly.

Javert opened his mouth and tried to make sounds. "Then let me fall." He managed to say quietly.

She gripped him tighter. "Never."

He looked around, bleary eyed. Javert was in a small room, holding nothing but a desk with several large record books and a thick, woven rug on the floor. It was onto this rug that Lilybet began to kneel and slowly laid Javert down. He looked up at her as she kneeled beside him, her eyes full of concern… and pity.

He turned away as her eyes bore into him. Javert glared at the opposite wall, trying not to feel the heat he felt coming off of her from kneeling so close.

"Let me leave." He said bitterly.

_Let me? _A voice asked, mocking him cruelly. _What happened to the 'brave' Inspector? At the mercy of a woman._

"If you can get up, then go." He looked at her; the response was uncharacteristic of her. Maybe his suspicions were right. Javert tried to prop himself up on his elbows when an intense pain shot up his spine again. His face must have betrayed him because within a moment, Lilybet's hands were on his shoulders and her face was inches from his. "I didn't actually mean it, ass." She said, her pink lips in a pout and her eyes full of frustration.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice hushed because of their proximity.

"Do what?"

"Get them to leave. Bring me here."

She sat straight now, looking at Javert as if he had grown feathers and a beak. "What kind of a question is that? What else was I supposed to do?"

"Run out there with your fellows." He said with contempt.

"My fellows? You actually think I was _part_ of that?"

"All the evidence points there."

"Is that why you just looked at me? No! I told you, I didn't know what that was supposed to be about-"

"-a clever ruse that would have worked if you were not dealing with Javert."

"Ruse! What, you- you actually think I planned all of this? That I set you up?!" When Javert only grunted in response, he watched from the corner of his eye as she stood, shaking her head, and slammed the door behind her.

Now alone with his thoughts, Javert began losing the battle against his guilty conscience.

Perhaps he should not have been so rude; perhaps she was telling the truth.

Even if she was just trying to protect him, it was an irresponsible thing to do. If she had not known one of the attackers, the other would have very well killed her… Javert did not know what he would do if she were to die on his account. He closed his eyes and tried to banish the thought. She had no right to die for him. She was so much younger, had so many more doors open for her.

Still, after these past few months, a time when he felt genuinely happy, he still had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. A voice that constantly reminded him in his happiest moments that it could not possibly last for a man like him; that he was born for the law and not for love. She was only a girl- a girl who gave him her kindness and trust when even he knew he could not be relied upon so heavily. One day, one would cause the destruction of the other. Either he would disappoint her and let her fall like he did his mother, or she would grow weary and leave him behind.

Whatever else, even if he did not want her to, Lilybet might have just saved his life today. Whatever else, she had said she loved him. And he repaid her with boorish behavior.

Javert sighed and stared at the ceiling. Lilybet made him happy at times, truly happy- but his life had never felt more complicated.

There was no clock in the room; Javert had tried several times to life himself but only succeeded in giving himself spasms of momentary, painful paralysis. He could still feel his toes, fingers, and legs, so it was nothing like that. For the moment, however, he was stuck.

He could not tell how much time had passed. Javert was starting to worry. What if she had gone back to help others in need? That was not unlike her. Worse, what if she had gone back into the fray now that Javert was gone and rejoined the schoolboys?

Lilybet could be lying dead in the street, her blue gray eyes staring into the sky but never seeing anything again, her blood flowing between the stones like a macabre system of canals…

No. He would not let that happen. He would shield her, and then he would arrest her. But he would not let her die.

The pain burned white hot as Javert tried to pull himself up. He fell back, hitting his head and panting heavily.

_Leave the old man._

He tried again, pushing himself up with his arms. Javert may not have been a young man, but he was a fit one. He kept the image of Lilybet in his mind as a shield from the pain. He grimaced. He was almost sitting up… almost…

The door creaked open.

Javert's concentration was broken and he felt himself hit the wood floor. It was all he could do to not vomit from the pain.

He turned to the side and saw two pairs of feet walking towards him. His theories were squashed as he watched Lilybet enter the room, talking to a doctor.

"Inspector." The doctor tipped his hat to Javert and turned back to Lilybet. He was a small, white haired man. Lilybet stood half a head taller than him.

She crossed her arms and spoke to him with a furrowed brow. "I saw them hit him in the back and he fell hard, I think he injured his knees in that fall. Then they hit him in either the stomach or the chest, I didn't see. A couple of officers took them and I thought the Inspector looked like he needed assistance, so I helped him get here until I could call you."

The doctor patted her shoulder reassuringly. "France has benefitted from your loyalty, Mademoiselle." She gave a small nervous smile and regarded Javert with concern.

"The mademoiselle knows that I am quite capable of answering questions for myself." He said loudly. True, he could not move, but he was not an infant. He could speak and hear perfectly and they had no right acting like otherwise.

"Sorry" she nodded quietly, retreating to the back of the room. The doctor, with some grunts and sighs, bent to the ground and looked Javert over.

"You'll be happy to know that the whole messy affair outside has been dealt with, Inspector. Your men quickly cleaned up the alley-dwellers from the street and three are currently at the hospital being treated for minor lacerations. Two of the rioters were killed and a few arrested, the rest retreated and surrendered. Mademoiselle Barbier told me how she saw you leading your men until a whole group of the rebels attacked you at once. No sense of decency, these people." He shook his head.

Javert looked beyond the doctor at Lilybet. She was hugging herself, leaning back against the wall. Why would she lie to the doctor? Well, not lie necessarily, but she did bend the truth.

Almost as if she read his mind, Lilybet shrugged, raising her eyebrows before looking up at the ceiling.

"Now, Monsieur Inspector," the elderly physician's voice cut through his thoughts, "tell me exactly where the pain is and how it feels."

"Mademoiselle, I thank you but you have no need to stay in the room. I am sure you have other chores you must attend to." Javert said. He hoped she would take the hint.

She did not. "No, it's fine, I can stay." She shrugged. God, the girl was thick. He turned and gave her a sharp look; his meaning finally dawning on her, Lilybet bit her lip in embarrassment. "Right, I forgot, I have to do… arrangements and the sweeping and the closing… let me know if you need anything, Doctor. Inspector."

Javert did everything he could to comply with the doctor; his first priority at the moment was to get himself better so that he could return to work and settle this matter. True, his officers had quashed this little riot, but Javert was not there to lead them. And what if this was just the beginning?

He decided that he would question Lilybet to see what she knew. After all, she was there. Besides, if she really wasn't using him, then surely she would be happy to tell him everything she knew.

After about half an hour of poking and prodding, the old man stood again. "Well, Inspector, thankfully nothing is broken. However, it seems you took serious bruising to your kneecaps and spine. I would recommend rest and immobility for at least a week. I take it you cannot stand up now?"

"Correct." Javert said, begrudgingly. He did not want to be reminded of his weakness.

"Unfortunately, there is no way to move you at this time of the evening. However, I recommended to the Mademoiselle to arrange for the hospital to come get you at around eight tomorrow morning. For an added fee, of course."

"And did she comply?"

"I told her it would be best to do so."

"And the bill?" Javert shuddered to think of the figures; Javert avoided going to the physician as much as he could. He rarely got sick, and his yearly physicals were conducted by a government doctor who was tasked with inspecting every officer in the area. Local doctors like this, however, tended to charge a ridiculous fee.

"She insisted that she would take care of it presently. Dare I say, your immediate state would prevent you yourself from doing so. I have given her the copy so that you might repay her when you are able." When Javert only grunted in reply, the doctor continued, utterly unaware of his patient's discontentment. "And may I say, Inspector, you are awfully lucky that someone like Mademoiselle Barbier found you and sheltered you. She must be very loyal to the Crown to risk herself to assist an officer. Good day."

_Loyal to the Crown, loyal to the schoolboys, loyal to Javert… where do her loyalties lie?_

When the door closed Javert looked up at the ceiling and sighed to himself. He should at least see the bill now; he was already on the ground and in pain, how much worse could the bill make it?

"Mademoiselle?" he called out, turning towards the door. He heard feet shuffling on the other side of the door, but the knob remained still. It suddenly occurred to him what she may have been waiting for.

"L-Lilybet?" he called, this time a bit softer.

She entered the room, her eyes wide and her mouth small. It was one of the only times Javert had seen her voluntarily demure. She walked gingerly over to him and laid a tray down next to him, a cup of soup on it. The way she looked at him gave Javert a twinge of annoyance.

"I am not on my deathbed." He said pointedly, eyes again to the ceiling.

"Then tell me how I'm supposed to act."

"Give me the bill."

"First night is complementary."

"For the _doctor_."

"No."

No? She met Javert's eyes, her eyebrows raised, daring him to challenge her- which, of course, he did.

"Yes."

"I paid him already."

"Then I must repay you."

"I won't take it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want your money. It was my decision to help you and I took on the costs and responsibilities."

"But it is my bill."

"Just think of it as a friendly gesture."

"A friendly gesture would have been to stay safely at home like I had told you."

She looked at him sharply, the spark returning to her eyes. "Like you _told me_? Since when do you _tell_ me what to do?"

"You went behind my back and joined this revolution-"

"-I went to some party that a friend asked me to go to out of kindness and it turned into a riot! I didn't join any revolution. If I did, would I have helped you? Would I be here now?"

She looked at him pleadingly, but Javert saw something more. Beyond the pleading he saw anger… and fear. He decided to address it. "Why are you upset?"

Lilybet scoffed exasperatedly and ran her hands through her hair. "You're lying here in my house, unable to move. I watched you get attacked. You could have died. If I hadn't run out there, you probably would have. And you're asking me why I'm upset?!"

"I-"

"-moreover, you're here now and to be completely honest, I expected a little gratitude. Even from someone as stubborn as you. Some kindness would have been nice. But no. You immediately start accusing me of using you and plotting against you! You heard what I said out there to them. You remember Christmas night on the balcony. Self-doubt is one thing, but when you actually think I would let you open yourself up to me and then manipulate your feelings, well, that's a damn mean thing to do."

Javert sighed. Shame slowly began crawling over him and replacing the suspicion and pain. He reached up shakily and rubbed his eyes. Could it really be true? Could this girl really fall in love with a worn old man like him? He felt her scoot closer. Was this what all of his years of prayer for redemption coming to? It was as if God had brought a star down from the sky and handed it to him, giving Javert his own ray of light. Whether he could handle the brightness of it remained to be seen. He stared into her eyes, careful to keep his own blank. He saw her eyes through the café window, wide with surprise and fear. It wasn't fear of being discovered after all- it was the same fear he felt when she ran out to protect him. It was the fear of being helpless as the one thing that really mattered was being torn away.

He believed her.

But now it was Javert's turn to be angry.

"Why did you assume it was a good idea to go?" he asked quickly, each syllable clear and cold.

Lilybet was clearly caught off-guard by his sudden change. "I thought-"

"-you heard the whispers, people speaking of revolution, and then these schoolboys behaving the way they were. Anybody could have pieced it all together."

She looked down sheepishly. "I… I just thought the best of them. I wanted t-to see what was wrong with them."

"Foolish girl!" Javert growled, banging his fist on the ground. He gritted his teeth as a spasm of pain went through his body. "You could have been arrested for being found there! What would you have done if one of the rioters was not one of your schoolboys? They would not have hesitated in killing you with me."

"I couldn't let you die!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to water. Other than that, she remained rigid and determined. "Fine, it was stupid to go there. I don't want them hurt. I don't want anyone hurt. But I don't want to be alive knowing I couldn't help you, above all else. Too many people have died because of me. Not you, not you. I can't lose you too. If they try to kill you so help me I will fight or die by your side."

"Do not say such things ever. Look at you. You have your life ahead of you. My life belongs to the law, if I go down in its name there is nothing anyone could do about it. It is an honorable death for me; for you, it would be meaningless." No. No, no, no, she would not die because of him.

She gave a sad smile that clearly showed the gap in her side teeth, making her look even younger. Javert looked down at his hand as Lilybet laced her fingers through his. "My dear Inspector, our lives have been intertwined ever since you tried arresting me in Montreuil su Mer, thinking I was an urchin boy. If you think I would try to defy fate and break the bond, you're crazy."

"If it means you stay safe and alive, then I am." He said firmly as a sickening feeling within agreed with her.

"Why are you doing this? You know I won't listen to anything you say to the contrary. Why can't you just accept the fact that I won't give up on you?"

Javert turned away and scratched his head. He knew there was only one way she could understand. He took a breath and closed his eyes, his mind frantically trying to piece together something to say. "When… when you feel strongly for someone else, particularly if you love them, their safety and well being come before your own. When they risk their life for you, the fear that you would be the direct cause of their death is something… is a weight that you cannot live with. You want to hold them as if your arms were a shield that could never be penetrated, and you want to hold them forever and keep them safe. If you are an Inspecteur Général, it becomes much more difficult because you know perfectly well that you could go down in the name of justice any day. If you are an older, half-gypsy bastard who is in love with an idealistic young girl who is a part of the bourgeoisie, it becomes even harder. When you love someone, you want what is best for them. Sometimes, that means recognizing that it is not you."

He did not dare look, but Javert assumed she would be looking at the floor and chewing on her lip, mulling over his words, sadly accepting their truth. He turned around when he heard the floor scuffle and felt something warm against his side. Javert looked down as Lilybet curled up in a ball against him gently so as not to disturb his wounds. When she spoke, her body gently vibrated against his.

"When you love someone, you know that dying by their side is infinitely better than continuing on without them, particularly when you know you had the chance to save them. You know that if you die to save them, you didn't die in vain. If you are a naïve girl who happens to fall in love with a strong man who is brave enough to give his life in the line of his work, well, it doesn't matter. No matter who you love, you always worry about them. And if that worry gets the best of you and is enough to make you leave them, well, you didn't really love them much in the first place." She turned her head up and looked at him, her blue eyes resolved and peaceful. Javert was at a loss for words. She had no plans to join this revolution- he had avoided, for now at least, the conflict between her and his work that had so terrified him. She would be by his side to the last. She loved him. Her voice was soft and rasped a little bit. Nevertheless, Javert listened intently as she began to speak again. "Etienne Javert, I'm staying."

Javert said nothing. He slowly took his arm and raised it around her balled- up frame and held on as tightly as he was able.

From that day on, he decided that he would save a portion of his salary every month. One day, perhaps when this mess was taken care of, he might give Lilybet the happily ever after wedding she always dreamed of.


	32. Chapter 31

**_Author's Note: I feel awful I am so so sorry. Writers block and end of the year stress is a bitch. But now that I have no more school I'll be able to go back to weekly/ every 3 day posting. For my readers that are still here, I'm really sorry. You guys are really my motivation for writing this and continuing, thank you so, so much. Let me know if you like it! Thanks guys :)_**

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the one window in the room, casting its faint yellow light in a line across a girl, curled up peacefully, and an Inspector, his brow furrowed even in sleep.

It was this sunlight shining onto his right eye combined with insistent knocks on the door that woke Javert from his sleep.

Instinctively, he tried to rise. Tight pain shot through his spine and sent him, grimacing, back to the ground. He heard soft mumbles and felt Lilybet stir beside him. Javert froze for a few moments without thinking; then the events of yesterday hit him.

His wild memories were validated when he finally paid attention to the girl leaning ever so lightly against his side, her whole torso rising and falling with every deep, even breath. She almost sounded like she was sighing with each one. For a moment, Javert was overcome with a profound sense of protectiveness. She was not a short girl, nor was she a frail one, but she was weaker than she would admit even to him and in her sleeping, defenseless state she looked so small and helpless that Javert got the urge to reach down and grab her. He wanted to hold her to his chest. He wanted to pick her up and put her in his pocket to replace the flower pin and keep her there, knowing that no matter what happened she was always there and safe. He wanted to shield her from these schoolboys and their revolution, from these poor gutter rats that she insisted on aiding- and a small part of him wanted to save her from himself and his unbreakable bond to the law, which inevitably would break the bond between them. But she was not his, and he did not have the authority to do that.

Three more knocks on the door snapped Javert out of his reverie and he chided himself on his uncharacteristic thought. Not only was it weak, but it was also dangerous.

He then remembered why it WOULD be a good idea to wake Lilybet after all.

But how was he to do it? With shame, Javert realized that he had slept with her. Not in the sinful sense, really, but she slept next to him and he fell asleep with his arm on her back. It was improper and made him uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Mademoiselle?" he croaked with morning grogginess. He gently tried to lift her face and pulled his hand away once he realized it was wet. Grimacing, Javert pulled her chin up and discovered a dark, moist spot on his uniform.

Christ, how old was she, twenty five? And she drooled in her sleep? Javert quickly pushed himself away from her, causing Lilybet to roll over and sprawl violently onto her back.

She twitched as if struck by lightning and her foot jerked outwards and kicked Javert in the hip. He shut his eyes as little stars sprung up in front of them, the pain making him feel sick and causing him to groan loudly.

Javert would have been amazed if this did not wake her up; Lilybet's eyes fluttered open innocently and she rubbed them with her fists.

"Hm?" was all she said. Javert hissed, sucking breath in through gritted teeth in an attempt to stifle the pain. Rebellion-battling wounds he could endure, but this was probably his most emasculating injury yet.

Lilybet looked at Javert's face and then down at herself and bit her lip. "Oooh, did I hit you?" He squinted at her and scrunched his face into what could have either been a grimace or a snarl. She made a popping sound with her mouth and clicked her teeth a few times. "Ah. So I did. Sorry. But you shouldn't have woken me up that way!"

"I will exercise more care next time I find that I have been drooled on."

Her eyes were vague and reminded Javert of a cow's. Lilybet reached up and felt her chin and her eyes immediately filled with comprehension, followed by mild shame. She looked down at his side and saw the wet spot. "Ohhh my God, I am _so_ sorry. That is just- ugh- that… I'm so stupid, ugh God that's gross."

"Mademoiselle this is our _last _call!" a muffled voice called from the front, accompanied by hasty knocking.

"Damn!" she swore. Javert watched Lilybet get up, swaying more than slightly. He was almost positive that she was going to ram into the wall- how she did not have any permanent bruising by now, he did not know.

But no, she stuck her arms out and caught herself on the doorframe, giving a sigh of relief.

"Not today, old foe." She said to the wood before patting it and walking wearily out of the room. His eyes followed her and he raised the corners of his lips as much as he dared. If someone had told him ten years ago that the young girl he knew would be the one to get his heart beating again, he would have given them no more than a contemptuous glance and a furrowed brow. If he was honest, he still was not all together sure how it had happened.

Javert vaguely realized that this was his first nightmare-free sleep.

* * *

Elisabet had almost forgotten about the people from the hospital. As she pointed to the room where Javert lay, the irritated looking man cast her a fleeting, curious glance before following her direction; it occurred to her how this must all have looked- finally emerging from the same room Javert was in, looking absolutely disheveled… she blushed at what she assumed the man was thinking.

Two more men followed him with a stretcher and Elisabet entered the room behind them.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea, she thought as the leader greeted Javert and the two others began to get him onto the stretcher. He turned her way briefly and Elisabet was met with the cool eyes of the Inspector. His pride was wounded by this, she knew it. But what else could she have done? When the doctor recommended the hospital service, Elisabet wanted to refuse. She knew that Javert wouldn't have wanted to be seen carried to the hospital and take all that time off of his work; yet, as she saw him laying there in pain, she knew that to refuse would mean to suggest she would be taking care of him, which was something he didn't want either. He still didn't want anyone to know about them- 'for your safety', he always said. Elisabet sighed- even if he WAS okay with staying there, she knew that she could not take care of him. Her plant knowledge only went so far, and Javert's injuries were beyond her capacity.

_And they're also your fault_.

No. No, Elisabet told the voice, it wasn't her fault, he would have been there anyway. He would have been trying to stop them anyway.

_But he wouldn't have gotten distracted if he didn't see you. _

Elisabet clutched the counter until her knuckled turned white. Suddenly, she was back in the café, looking out the window. Bahorel swung the metal bar at Javert and he fell over, still staring straight at her. She tried to run to him. Her feet wouldn't move. She stood, helpless, watching them beat him to death. In her mind, his eyes turned glassy as scarlet fluids began trickling out of his nose and mouth. All the while, his eyes never left hers

She felt his pain, she felt every grimace as they lifted him onto the stretcher. She promised to always help him but here she was, unable to do anything but watch his pride take a beating as they loaded him like a wooden crate. They carried him past her and emotion swooped down and knocked the wind out of her.

Elisabet could not explain how she felt; thoughts raced through her head. No, he couldn't just leave like this. There had to be something she could say, do. All he needed was ice and rest, the doctor said so himself. He could get that here instead of in a place full of strangers. When would she see him next? Would he be alright? She felt like something was missing. She should have said something more. She should have told him she loved him. She should have told him that he was everything to her, that she didn't want to be without him no matter what he thought.

This whirlwind of thought had clouded her vision- she snapped back into reality just in time to see the door shut.

She shook her head and ran outside. Elisabet stood on the cobblestone street and watched the carriage roll away.

It only occurred to her now that Javert might have told her he loved her last night.

She could not say how long she stood there, only that she felt that she had somehow let him down. Would he want her to visit? Would he consider it proper?

Wait a minute, a part of her said, since when did _she_ care what was proper?

But Javert did, she remembered with annoyance.

Elisabet sighed in a defeated way as the carriage turned a corner and disappeared. She hung her head and walked back into her shop and out of the morning sunshine. Her feet took her to the room where they had previously spent the night and she sat on the carpet. She could almost feel the warmth of Javert still lingering in the threads. Her eyes surveyed the room and rested on a black hat.

She grinned to herself. She didn't have to visit him, but he _had _to get his hat back, didn't he?

…..(later)

The rest of the day and the one following it were filled with a dense loneliness. Elisabet felt as though she were on a small island shrouded with dense fog. She saw and heard nothing, yet the heavy feeling of inevitable conflict hung in the air. A rickety wagon was rolling all of Paris towards a precipice and she was going to get crushed under its wheels. She did not see a hair of any of the schoolboys since that day. Even the customers going to the shop had dwindled: word had quickly spread of the riot and, though it was not a comparatively serious one, it did serve to scare away some business.

She held the doctor's bill and ran her fingers over the black ink. Now wasn't a good time to lose business. Nevertheless- it was her fault Javert got there, it was only fit that she pay the debt.

The sky was cloudy. It would rain soon. Elisabet squinted at it through the window. A few people had come in this morning but now, as the clock struck noon, she walked heavily up to the front and changed the sign to 'closed'. Today, however, she would not sit in her flat watching the clock. She needed to see how Javert was. Odds were he was still in the hospital, and odds were he didn't have many visitors. She closed her eyes and felt herself curled up against him again, his large hand on her back.

She wanted it to always be that way. She wanted those pale green eyes to be the first thing she saw when she woke up and the last thing she saw before she went to bed.

But for now she would have to settle for visiting him at the hospital. With a final weary glance at the sky, Elisabet wrapped herself in a raincoat, tucked the hat under her arm, and went out into the street.

The rain had not yet started when she walked into the looming stone building.

"Hello, excuse me, yes, hello-" Elisabet tried to flag down a nurse. She had not set foot in a hospital since her father had died some four years ago. When she finally got the attention of a sever-looking middle aged woman, Elisabet tried to speak coolly, "Excuse me, Madam, would you happen to know where Inspector Javert is?"

The woman blinked her watery eyes. "Why, yes, but he specifically told the doctor that he would not be expecting any visitors."

"I'm a friend of his. I'm here to give him his hat."

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle, but friends may see him when he is discharged. If you would like to give me the hat I can assure you it will get to him-"

"-wait." Elisabet said, grabbing the nurse's arm and pulling her close. She sighed; Javert will not be pleased. "Honestly, he is my fiancé. He just doesn't like me sharing it because he thinks the fact that he's an Inspector General means people will criticize him for marrying below his class. We got engaged around Christmas and, well, you know how it is with men and their reputations. Don't spread it though. Armand- erm- Inspector Javert- wants to keep it. You may have heard people who went to the royal Christmas gala talking about it, Inspector Javert and Elisabet Barbier? Naturally I want to see him."

That was the most Godawful lie anyone has ever told, Elisabet thought. Nevertheless, she prayed that something had rubbed off onto her from Javert and that her face stayed a cool, unreadable mask.

The nurse squinted at her, silent.

Elisabet continued, the façade beginning to crack as her courage started to fail. Look at me, she thought miserably, brave, stupid Lilybet getting cut by the Patron-Minette and running out into a riot, but this old nurse has me sweating bullets. "Y-you can ask him. Go on. Go ask if he knows Elisabet Barbier."

The woman turned on her heel and Elisabet followed her past rows of curtained beds full of sick, wounded, and dying. She turned down a corridor and entered a small room with only one bed. It seemed that his newest promotion earned Javert special treatment.

"Inspector, are you well?"

"Well enough." Elisabet heard him respond coolly. She stood on tiptoe and looked at him over the nurse's shoulder. Javert's eyes widened briefly before they returned to their emotionless, calculating stare.

"There is a Elisabet Barbier here who claims to know you, sir. Is this true?"

He met her eyes and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Pleaseee" she mouthed, pouting at him.

"Yes." He said slowly, sardonically. Elisabet smiled. The nurse turned and she immediately fell from her tiptoes and leaned against the doorframe, pretending to take an interest in an ant crawling along the floor.

Elisabet looked up as if she had just noticed the nurse. "See? I told you." She quickly slid past the woman and stood at Javert's bedside.

The nurse shifted her eyes between the two of them before slowly retreating. "I shall leave the door ajar. I will be near if you need anything, Inspector."

Javert began to respond, still staring at Elisabet like a master would if he walked in on his dog defecating on the floor. "Thank you-"

"-thank you!" Elisabet clipped the end of his sentence quickly, smiling brightly at the nurse. When the woman left, she looked down at Javert. He was in a thin, loose white shirt that was so sheer that Elisabet could see how tightly he was bandaged underneath it with a woolen blanked covering his lap. He looked as miserable as she had ever seen him; his skin was pale and the bags under his eyes were darker than normal- he hadn't been sleeping. She assumed that his thinner looks were only a trick of her paranoia. "Javert…" she whispered, her hand hovering over the edge of the mattress.

"What are you doing here." He said more than asked in his crisp tones.

She blinked a few times to remember what indeed she was doing there. "I brought your hat." She extended her arms and held it above him.

Javert stared up at it, expressionless. "You may leave it on the bedside table."

"You won't even ask a lady to sit down?"

"Sit down in your own home."

"Because you're so busy, right?"

"It would not be proper for you to be seen-"

"-visiting a sick friend? Javert, nobody cares."

"You will be embarrassed."

"You're embarrassing yourself."

"You have a shop to run-"

"-for God sake's Javert, will you stop? If you- _you personally_ – do not want me here with you; if you absolutely cannot stand my presence and it HURTS you that I'm here and your life would be so much improved if I was not here-"

"-just sit down and stop talking." He grumbled dejectedly and leaned back.

Elisabet smiled to herself and stopped pacing, sitting down on the chair next to him. The smile faded as her eyes looked Javert over. She stopped thinking about 'proper' and 'what others would think'- what would they think, that she cared for him? That someone actually loved Javert? Well, they would be right. She scooted the chair closer to the bed and ran a hand through his thick, graying-sandy hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She took the other hand and placed it on Javert's scratchy cheek and kissed his weary forehead, smelling his cottony musk beneath the scent of bandages and ointments.

A possessive feeling overtook Elisabet. Javert was hers; nobody had a right to touch a single hair on his head. Day in and day out, he stalked the streets of Paris as the fearsome, ruthless Inspector. He stood alone, a fortress of solitude. Behind the walls, however, he was just as lonely as Elisabet was. They depended on each other, they understood each other. She kept running her hand through his hair, thinking about how close she was to losing him.

"I'm sorry." She said softly, staring at each individual strand of hair as it bent slowly under her fingers and sprung free once her skin had passed it. When she observed that he wasn't pulling away, a warm happiness filled her.

_He's hurt, he can't pull away_, her common sense whispered. She tried to ignore it.

He snorted, "You barge into the room and force yourself on me and then apologize for it?"

"No, you ass. I'm apologizing for…" it was caught like a jagged rock in her throat. Elisabet took a breath and forced it out. "…for this. For you- the hospital, the hurt. It's all my fault you're here."

"Well it was not as if you paid for me to be sent here on accident."

"_No._" Elisabet said loudly, slapping her thigh impatiently. Javert was so literal. He was going to make her say it, wasn't he? "I'm… it's my fault you got injured. You almost died and it was because of me."

"If I fall in the line of duty, it would be a noble death. I have no one to blame but myself for allowing the rebels to catch me off guard."

"They caught you off guard because of me, though! I'm not an idiot, I saw you stop and stare at me. Do you realize how close you came to being killed?"

"Me?" He pushed himself up with a grimace, his voice now getting the cutting edge Elisabet associated with anger. "Do you think it matters to me if I die on a patrol? To give my life for justice is an honor. I fully expect that my death will be in order to protect the law and the innocent lives it guards. I am almost fifty. I have no family or relations, it would be as if I never existed-"

"-STOP" Elisabet nearly shouted, her hands gripping the chair violently and her eyes shut so tight that she saw spots inside of her eyelids. Her heart pounded her ribcage and a desperation filled her mind. The way he spoke, the conviction in his voice, the acceptance with which he spoke of his untimely demise- it all terrified her. That he wouldn't even try and fight if he was certain he would lose. She cupped her hands over her ears and looked at Javert, whose brow was furrowed because of her sudden outburst. When Elisabet opened her mouth again, her voice sounded thin, pleading: "Please. Don't talk like that. You don't understand how much I care about you. Hearing that hurts me. It scares me. Please just promise me you'll try and fight. Even if it seems futile, even if you're surrounded and you know you'll lose, don't give up. Don't just say that you're going to give your life for the law and lay down. Fight for your life. Fight for _our _life."

They stared at each other for a long while. Javert's brow was still furrowed and his head was cocked a little bit to the side as he studied her- for what, she did not know. Slowly, he reached his hand up and did something Elisabet did not anticipate. She let out a gasp as his large, thick hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing the side of her face, rough but comforting. Elisabet leaned into his touch instinctively, sliding the chair as close as she could come to him.

"You should not be with me, Mademoiselle." He said quietly after a time, shaking his head slightly.

Elisabet gently placed her hand on top of his, hoping that he would keep it there. She stared into his eyes, overcome with love. "And why would that be, Monsieur Inspector?"

"Because you deserve someone who will make you happy-"

"-but you already-"

"-for your _whole _life. You may be happy now, but there will inevitably come a time when I disappoint you. I will let you down and hurt you. I could not live with that. You are young and you are free. Do not tie yourself down to me."

"Etienne, do you see a ring on my finger? Do people call me Madame? No. I'm not tied down to anything. I could hurt you just as much as you could hurt me, that's what comes of people caring for one another. 'The ones that love you the most are the ones that hurt you the most', isn't that what they say? It's a crapshoot for both of us. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be."

"You could have died-"

"-so could you. But you didn't. And I didn't. That's what's important." She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. She let her own words sink into her mind, as much for him as for herself. Javert is safe, she told herself, for now at least, he is safe. The sudden cold that came from him removing his hand made Elisabet's eyes fly open. He looked at her, the vulnerability replaced with sharp calculation.

"What were they discussing in that meeting?" he asked.

"Please, don't beat around the bush."

"Tell me."

"Why is this worrying you all of a sudden? We were having a moment."

"It is not worrying me. I was merely-"

"-did you mean what you said?"

"What?"

"Just then. Everything you did, the hand on my cheek, the tenderness… what made you do that, your feelings, or were you just trying to warm me up so that I could I would tell you what you want?"

Javert furrowed his brow. "Of course I meant it. Why else would I do it?"

"Then why the sudden change?"

"Because I see that you are too stubborn to do what is best for you and I am too weak a man to force you to. If you resign yourself to stay I am asking you to assist me- not only for my own benefit, but for the safety of all of Paris."

Elisabet looked down at her lap, squinting as she felt her left eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. "Let me remember" she lied. Javert remained silent, and she soon began to forget he was there as her own thoughts consumed her and filled her ears with a low buzz. It was happening, everything she was afraid of was happening.

And now she was at a crossroads.

If Elisabet told Javert everything that went on, the boys would be arrested. It was a dangerous and stupid endeavor, yes, but these were young boys with a bright future. If they were arrested and she was the reason behind it, she was sure that she would not forgive herself.

_But you would lie to him? You, who preached honesty and trust until he gave it to you?_

All was quiet outside of her mind.

She licked her lips and numbed herself as best she could. "I… I don't know. I'm sorry." She looked him in the eye. "It was very loud and people were talking everywhere, and suddenly a man started screaming and ran out. He was one of the few your men killed. It was just confusion and insanity, I'm sorry, I don't know anymore." Elisabet looked back down at her lap. More silence.

"Is that the truth?" a deep, gravelly voice asked from what seemed like miles away.

She slowly nodded. "Yes." She raised her blue-gray eyes again to meet his pale green ones. For once, they weren't searching or prodding. They were just… looking.

After another moment, Javert nodded. "I trust you. I must rest now. I will pay you a visit when I get out of this damnable place."

"Okay. Feel better." Elisabet slowly stood from the chair and bent over Javert, holding her lips to his forehead. She closed her eyes, feeling his warm skin on hers, praying. Please, don't let me hurt him. Don't let anybody hurt him. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt them. I don't want to hurt anybody anymore.

Before she could stand up straight again, Javert grabbed her by the elbow. He looked into her eyes, authoritative yet thoughtful. "Be safe" he instructed. Elisabet nodded and squeezed his hand before turning around and dragging herself out of the room.

_I trust you._

The simple phrase that once elated her heart now punctured it with needles and daggers, the guilt buzzing like flies on a rancid carcass.


	33. Chapter 32

The next week came and went in a haze of stress and guilt. Javert had made it clear that he did not want Elisabet to visit again, and so she could do nothing but wait around her shop, floating through each day, staring out the window- yet each morning, it was a different man who rode past her shop. Still, however, she swept the street every day unfailingly, hoping that she would see a large black stallion ride past.

None of the boys had come by, and on the rare occasion that they happened to walk past across the street, they gave no sign that they heard her calls. After a few days of this, she stopped calling.

The only information she had gotten was from customers coming by. They spoke of increased aggression from the poor- some had even gotten children to climb into open carriages and physically pilfer the wealthy men and women within. She heard of rallies conducted by young men whose identities Elisabet thought she had a good guess of. They were bourgeoisie university students who had never lifted a weapon in their lives, she thought. What could they possibly be thinking? Did they honestly think they would change the world? They would be lucky to stay alive. Elisabet cursed herself, clenching her fist so hard that her nails left marks in her palm. If this had happened the same time last year, she would close her shop doors and carry on business: take care of her own skin, and nothing more. But ever since Javert popped back into her life, she had begun to not only care for him again, but those around her- including her schoolboys. This time last year, she would have shrugged off the madness. Now, it was as if she was a mother, watching her children be torn apart by wolves, unable to stop it.

Between all the extra work from working alone and the anxiety Elisabet felt, she could not remember the last time she had eaten or slept for more than three hours at a time. She might have had an apple the day before, who knows, the days just blend together.

Two weeks after the riot, life was the same; the only thing that changed was the mostly untouched, spoiled food in her ice box. She had forgotten to change the ice these past few days, and as a result she had spent the morning fishing out rancid meat and vegetables, thanking her lucky stars that she didn't have anything to heave up from the smell.

After the foul mess was properly disposed of, Elisabet glanced outside. The day was bright but the sky was cloudy; an unpleasant combination of heat and moisture hung in the air. She took one glance back at the empty ice-turned-water box.

"I'm going to need food, even if I don't eat it right away", she reasoned with herself. She looked down at herself; the dress she was wearing was very plain, even a bit frumpy, and her hair was up in a nondescript bun. The only thing that had been giving her strength to dress nicely these past two weeks was the fact that she had to look presentable for customers- now, however, the shop was closed and she would be on her own for the day. Elisabet supposed there would be nothing wrong with going out to the market like this. With a sigh she put on her shawl, took her basket, and set out into the humid weather.

The marketplace was not bustling as much as usual, which could only mean two things: either the weather put people off… or there was another one of their rallies. Elisabet swallowed, kept her head down, and went about her business. Maybe if it started sometime soon, she would get another chance to talk to Enjolras or Grantaire… or any of them, really.

When the shopping was done, she proceeded down the street when a smell filled her nose and turned her head. It was the warm, sweet, and inviting air of the bakery. The door of Monsieur Massar's bake shop was open wide, customers shuffling in and out with their goods. Elisabet briefly debated on whether or not she should go in before her stomach rumbled its two cents.

The bell that signaled a new customer tinkled and Elisabet waved hello to Monsieur Massar; despite being in his mid-fifties, he still shared the bright, toothy grin and mop of blond curls with his daughter, Renee. This was the grin he gave Elisabet now, waving her in despite being covered head to toe in flour.

"Mademoiselle Elisabet, hello! Long time no see! How can I help you?"

"What kind of cookies are you baking there, Monsieur? I smelled them on my way home and had to stop in."

"Ah, yes, you just caught my fresh batch of butter cookies."

"I'll take a dozen, please."

"Of course." He turned his head and cupped his hand around his mouth. "Lesgles! Bring a dozen of those cookies we just made!"

She felt the color drain from her face. "L-Lesgles is here?" Elisabet stuttered. It was now or never, but what would she say? The chances of getting one of the boys to speak to her was low, but Lesgles was one of them as well- surely, at least for Renee's sake, he had to talk to her.

"Oh yes, seeing as he's engaged to my daughter, I thought it best that he started learning the business in case we ever needed him here- when he's not at his law practice, that is." At this he swelled, proud of the thought that his daughter was to marry a future lawyer.

Elisabet's eyes snapped to Lesgles as soon as he walked out of the baking room. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and held a white box. He raised his eyes and looked around brightly until they locked on Elisabet. His smile fell and his eyes widened in surprise, much like hers did.

"Ring those up for Mademoiselle Elisabet." Monsieur Massar instructed.

"Yes, sir." Lesgles nodded. He met Elisabet at the counter, visibly trying hard to act nonchalant.

Now or never, she reminded herself.

"Lesgles, I am SO glad I managed to catch up with you!" she said loud enough for most of the shop to hear, her voice ringing in her ears. "I needed to talk to you about something I'm planning for Renee, it's _very _important and I'll need your help. Do you have a minute?" she gave her best smile, although it felt more like a grimace to her.

Elisabet didn't miss the fact that he looked around, laying his eyes on anything but her. "Ah, I do not believe Monsieur Massar would appreciate me leaving when I said I would help him."

"Nonsense!" Massar called over to them. "The morning rush is over, you can step off for a little while."

Legles gulped and raised his hands in a defeated way. "Very well. But not for long."

"Let's go outside." Elisabet beckoned and he reluctantly followed her out the door.

They walked side by side in a slighty uncomfortable silence for a while, heading in the direction of the Place du Châtelet.

"So what were you planning for Renee?" he finally asked.

Elisabet stopped, leaning against the concrete river bank, a gentle breeze whipping the little hairs that had come out of her bun about her face. "You know that that's not what I want to talk to you about."

He looked side to side and stepped closer to her, looking down urgently. "Look, I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't be trusted."

"What the hell- what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're too close to that Inspector for us to trust you. You told him about that meeting and you're the reason it turned into a riot."

"I am not-"

"-you are. Don't try to deny it, everyone knows. Enjolras saw you take him into your shop when the riot broke out, he wouldn't be a problem anymore if it wasn't for you."

"You can't actually mean you would have had him killed?"

"His men killed three people, and if you count all the lives he signed away for meaningless things like taking a piece of meat to feed a family, it's a wonder he isn't dangling from a rope himself-"

"-shut the hell up, you don't know him."

"I know he thinks his shit smells sweet and he doesn't give a damn about anyone who can't afford a roof above their heads. He's the same as all the other mindless soldiers out there, he doesn't know what it's like for these people living on the streets."

"_Yes he does_." The words poured out of her before she was able to stop them. Elisabet inhaled sharply once she realized what she had said. Defending his honor or not, she had no right telling things so private to someone else. She shook her head and continued, "You can't assume things about people. For your information, I covered for you. For all of you. I didn't tell him anything, even when he asked. I fucking _lied_ for you-"

"-oh _that _makes things better. After you tell the police about the meeting you try to cover it up by telling them it isn't what it actually was about? You do realize they probably had a mole, don't you? The damage is done. That's your problem- you always have a solution. You can cause as many problems as you want as long as you have the solution eventually. Well here's news for you: you can't. You can't waltz around doing whatever you want because some things can't be fixed afterwards. You have to be careful in the present, not try to clean up your mess in the future. Sometimes the mess is too big. You overestimate your abilities, it's stupid, immature-"

"-oh _I'm _immature now, am I?" She had gone into this wanting to be civil, controlled: but if he wanted to throw around accusations, well, so could she. Elisabet didn't bother keeping her voice low anymore; all of the anxiety she felt the past two weeks poured fourth in a high pitched, near-shriek. "_I _overestimate myself. Hah! What about you? What about Enjolras, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Pontmercy? What about all of you? Dear God, they're only _boys_. You're a law student, what do you know about revolution? What-"

The rest of her words were cut short when Lesgles put a hand to her mouth, his eyes wide. She was not having it- Elisabet bit his hand hard and continued, however her voice was now more hushed. "What do you know about toppling a monarchy? Nothing except what you've learned in your philosophy classes! How many of you have ever held a gun, hm? Exactly. Do you know what this will bring? Nothing but pointless bloodshed. You won't be able to change anything." She paused, breathing heavily. She thought of Javert. Of Enjolras. Of Lesgles. Even of little Gavroche- all lying dead with the people in the alley ways still starving and shivering. Why couldn't they see? "Look at you, just a bunch of well-off school boys playing at war. This isn't your fight. This is plain suicide, nothing else."

Lesgles took a step back and only then did Elisabet realize how far she was leaning back- one slip of the toes and she would have been washed away by the river. She took a nervous glance down and wiped her brow, the combination of humidity and emotions actually making her perspire.

He narrowed his eyes as if he could not recognize her and shook his head slightly. "What's happened to you? Whatever happened to the bright, optimistic girl who thought everyone deserved a chance? The girl who found a five year old Gavroche and hid him in her dorm until he found a way to live in the elephant statue? The girl who wagged her finger at a police officer and almost got herself arrested for defending a man who took a blanket, then bought him that blanket so he couldn't be taken away?"

Elisabet opened her mouth, yet no words came out. She took a step backwards so that she was once again leaning on stone while her conscience closed in on her in the form of Lesgles Bossuet. "I've matured." She tried to defend herself, yet it came out weaker than she intended.

He cocked his head, like a lion recognizing its prey starting to weaken. "That's not maturity. That's cowardice. You said yourself once that we're all people, we're all the same. This _is_ our fight because we see these people every day, we know them. You do too. There was a time when you wouldn't have hesitated to jump in, when you would be rallying the masses right along with us. I don't know if it's that Inspector or what, but you've changed. You don't understand what it's like-"

"-_I do understand_. I see them every day too, you know I use what I can to help when I can-"

"-and yet now that you have the chance to really help, you shut your doors and hide and beg us to call it off. I wonder, do you do that because you really care,or just to help you sleep at night? You're not the girl you used to be and you know it. A hypocrite is what you are. A coward and a hypocrite."

She wanted to get angry. She wanted to scream and yell and to knock sense into him.

And yet every time she raised her eyes to his face, it was a different face starting back at her. First it was little Mona, the angel of a girl she failed to save. Then it was Gavroche when he was little more than a babe, hiding in between the church pews before she whisked him away and hid him under her bed for several years.

Then it was a scraggly wretch who served nine years in Toulon for stealing three apples when she didn't have the money to pay for them.

They stared at her accusingly, all asking the same question- _what happened?_

Lesgles checked his watch and looked around, visibly irritated. "Look, I have to get back. None of us will change our minds, I can promise you that. It's far too late. If you change yours, you know where to find me. You're close enough to that Inspector to be pretty damn useful to the cause." With that, he turned and briskly walked away and disappeared in a throng of people, leaving Elisabet with her head hanging low.

All of her self-doubt and insecurity swirled around her, the faces of her past mocking her with pleas.

_Overestimate your abilities._

_What happened._

_Hypocrite. Coward._

_What happened?_

She was right, she knew she was, but so was he. Fuck, she thought. It was true, there was a girl once who would have joined in their revolution, supported them unwaveringly. But she was long dead. Who was she now? What was she? She had grown up- grown up into the child she was at Montreuil, the child who fed the poor and sat with them, but was too frightened to even spend an hour in their position.

But what could she do? If she joined them, she would betray Javert. Lying to him had felt bad enough, she could not imagine how it would feel to be assembling weapons for the boys, knowing that one of them would eventually be aimed at him. She loved him, and that love exceeded anything else. She didn't want him fighting, and to be against him would only ensure his death, among many others.

On the other hand, if she assisted Javert, that would only serve to hurt the schoolboys. Her boys. Helping him would only quicken their executions.

No, she foolishly told herself, there had to be something else she could do. Anything. She could fix this.

Somehow, her feet had brought her to a bench on the side of the bridge. Elisabet plopped down onto it, holding her basket in her lap. She knew that she should get home, but how far away was it? She felt heavy, almost drunk on her conscience. She wouldn't make it back home just now.

Oh no please, not now, she thought as tears burned her eyes. She sniffled and looked down at her basket, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her tears.

"Look at me," she whispered to herself, "look at the strong Lilybet, acting like a whiny little damsel in distress. This isn't about you, it's not your place to whine about how unfair it is. Ugh!" She punched the bench in frustration. Were people looking at her? Who cared anymore. She knew she looked like an idiot, muttering to herself alone on a bench. How long had passed? Elisabet could only tell by the amount of feet on the stone street dwindling that it had to be at least a few hours.

"Mademoiselle?"

Elisabet did not look up immediately when she heard the voice; there were people talking all around her, she had probably just caught a snippet of somebody's conversation.

"Mademoiselle Barbier?" the deep, gravelly voice registered this time. She raised her head slowly and stared into a face she had not seen in two weeks but, like always, remained unchanged.

"Long time no see, stranger." She rasped.

Javert merely looked down at her, his features placid but his eyes searching hers. Elisabet knew that he would not display any affections in such a public place and she didn't blame him for it; right now she was just relieved and confused to see him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Nothing I was just… talking to a friend a little while ago. Then he left."

"You are crying."

"It's the onions."

"That excuse would work if they were not completely unpeeled."

"Shut up."

"What is the matter?"

_I'm about to lose everything. My life is going to fall apart and I'm just caught in the middle watching it all. I lied to you._

"I really don't want to talk about it."

She chewed her bottom lip and looked Javert in the eyes, entreating him to not question further. This was her problem, and she had to be strong. She didn't need to lean on anyone. She would figure it out eventually… hopefully.

He nodded briefly in acknowledgement. "As you wish. I will not pry. If you need to let it out you may."

"Thank you" she said gratefully, grasping his hand. The way his fingers slipped out of hers reminded Elisabet that they were in public. Things like this made her really appreciate Javert: he didn't like to delve into anyone's personal life as it was, he was a very firm believer of every man's business was his own only. She was grateful beyond words that he was there, grateful to whatever God send him to her. She needed a friend right now and he was the best she had; moreover, she knew he was alright. "Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I was discharged from the hospital five days ago, I had much work to catch up on."

"They made you go on patrols after that?!"

"No," he said, not without resentment, "I was forced to remain in the police station, filling out and signing reports. I don't get my men, I don't get my horse. I am going to be allowed to resume my patrols next Monday, according to Monsieur Vipond."

She looked down at her lap. "Well where are you going now?"

"Wherever you need to go." Elisabet looked up again and saw Javert's outstretched arm, a handkerchief in his hand. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly as she took the favor and wiped her eyes. For someone who had precious little social experience, Javert almost had a sixth sense when it came to Elisabet and how she felt. It didn't feel like she knew him for ten years; it felt like her entire life.

"No, seriously, where are you headed?" she asked.

"It is six o' clock- seeing as I have no patrol to go on, it is time for me to go home."

"I don't live anywhere near you."

"Has that stopped me before?"

"You can just go home, I'll make it back just fine."

"And how many hours ago did you decide that?"

"What?"

"When did you get here?"

"A bit earlier."

"A bit? When I came upon you I thought you were a statue until I got closer and recognized you. If I leave now I will have to come back tomorrow and wipe the dust and bird droppings off of you."

"That's not funny." She said, despite stifling a small giggle.

"Come. You are not feeling well. I cannot let you find your way home on your own this way. Let me walk you home. An inspector must ensure the safety of the public. Particularly if the public is the reason the inspector is even alive."

"Stop it."

"Then come."

With a huff of more resignation than she truly felt, Elisabet took Javert's gloved hand.

The way he grimaced when she pulled herself up did not escape her notice.

She let go of his hand immediately, falling right back down on the bench. Blushing slightly, she hopped up as if the bench were on fire, smoothing her skirts.

"You're still hurt" she said pointedly in response to Javert's puzzled glance.

He turned away and took a step forward. "It is nothing." He dismissed. "Shall we go?"

Elisabet hustled to get on his pace and soon they were walking together. She also did not miss how stiffly he carried himself, as if he couldn't move his torso or shoulders. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Why would they make you go to work like this? You can barely walk."

He snatched his arm away defensively, grimacing again from the sudden movement. "I am fine. Why would I sit in my house, of no use to anyone, when I could be keeping the streets safe?"

She furrowed her brow- so there was the problem. After a while, Elisabet turned and faced Javert, stopping him. "You really don't like sitting at home, do you?"

"Idle hands are the devil's tools-"

"-no. You specifically mentioned your house. What is it?"

When Javert spoke, it was so low and quick that Elisabet had to strain her ears. "I live in the house that the government dispatched for me. It is very clear that it was originally built for a family of at least four people, not an aging bachelor and a day-maid."

"You're still lonely" she said quietly, thinking aloud.

"I am not _lonely_." He said firmly, brushing past her. "It is irritating, all of the empty space. You have seen it, nothing but a cold shell with a few beds and empty rooms."

"Then stay home and let me visit you every day. I'll cook you dinner and we could light a fire and read and talk." As she said it, Elisabet had begun to envision it herself; she longingly imagined sitting in Javert's barely furnished living room, attending to him as he sat in an armchair. She would bring him tea and bring a book for them and they would read by the light of the fire, discussing each passage and tenderly holding each other's hand. It was true, he was lonely. No matter how happy she made him when they were together, he would always return to his big, empty house and his big, empty bed with nothing but his thoughts. She remembered his hitch pitched whimpering and terror during his nightmare; Elisabet wished she could be there every day, trying so hard to ensure his house was a little bit less lonely. Maybe someday they would even fill the four person minimum…

_No- what the hell are you thinking?_ Elisabet shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had no time for silly, fanciful thoughts now. She had more on her plate, including the man she loved being prepped for slaughter by his superiors in the form of a job promotion. Do I always have to be such an immature idiot, she wondered.

Elisabet absentmindedly looped her arm through Javert's, controlled by her daydreams and wish to keep him close. She vaguely noticed the eyes that were glancing at the two of them; ever since the riot, Javert's infamy among the lower classes had increased tenfold- and with his black hat and uniform with its silver epaulettes, he didn't exactly go for the discreet approach. She was also too emotionally drained at the moment to care.

"That would be inappropriate. If we were courting or engaged, it would be different. But as we are not, it would not be acceptable for you to be seen entering and exiting my house on a daily basis."

Elisabet clicked her tongue, irritated. "You didn't pull away when I put my arm here, that's not inappropriate?"

"That could be seen in different ways. I, for one, would construe it as polite behavior when one is escorting a lady to her home."

Well, at least he gave her that. Elisabet smirked and squeezed his arm briefly. After a few moments, she realized he was leaning on her just a tiny bit. She had to do something, at least.

"Give me some money." She sighed, stopping them in front of a shop.

"What? No" he replied incredulously.

"You're barely walking, I can see it. We need to get you a cane."

"I am not that old yet, I do not need any walking assistance."

"You're not old, you're injured. Please? Do it for me. Give me a little peace of mind, God knows I need some of that. Please, Etienne." She added his first name softly, trying to entreat him. What if he fell on his way home? She could only imagine how painful it would be, to both his pride and his injuries. At least a cane would help him a little bit. She pouted at him, looking up with her best wide-eyed puppy stare.

Eventually, he rolled his eyes. "Fine, just this once." Javert reached into his pocket and removed five francs, placing them in her hand.

"Only five? What do you expect me to do with this?"

"Buy a walking stick."

"Are you planning on walking with a tooth pick?"

"Why should I spend more?"

"So that you don't fall flat on your face."

"You do it all the time and you seem fine."

"Low blow, my friend. Come on, I need at least ten!" Elisabet playfully punched him in the chest.

When he shut his eyes and groaned, she remembered why they were getting the cane in the first place.

"Ohhh shit, I forgot I'm so sorry, does it hurt?" she held her hands just above his shoulders, terrified to touch him.

"Idiot" he hissed, trying to straighten himself. When he caught sight of her holding her fist to her mouth stifling laughter, he narrowed his eyes. "You think it's funny, do you?"

"A bit." She muttered from behind her hand. "My fault. Sorry. Sorry. My fault." She knew she shouldn't be laughing at his expense, but despite that, it felt good. She had precious little to laugh about these past two weeks.

Javert rolled his eyes and thrust five more francs into her palm. "Women are more a financial investment than an emotional one." He grumbled to himself.

She wanted so badly to kiss him then, but at this point Elisabet was painfully aware of the fact that they were still in public, even if the amount of people in the square was scarce. Instead, she grinned at him and entered the shop, sighing contently. For those few moments, it was as if everything was back before the whispers and the riots, back to when she was just happy to have a roof above her head and to be in love with her best friend.

A few minutes later, Elisabet emerged and presented Javert with a simple black cane with a silver top. He held it in his hands, rolling it in his palms and inspecting it.

"It matches your uniform" she quipped. It had cost twelve francs originally, but she managed to haggle it down. It was quiet, yet powerful- just like he was.

"Thank you" he nodded politely. She could tell that he didn't want to need it in the first place, but until he was better, the both knew it was a necessity.

They walked the rest of the way back, Javert too busy getting used to his handicap to talk.

When they returned to her shop, Elisabet went to check the order box- inside, among the little notes, was a letter. It read _Mademoiselle Lilybet Barbier, from Monsieur Theodore Herriot._

"It's from my uncle." She said excitedly. It had been a long time since she had heard from him; he had retired from farming for profit and had been busy restructuring the land and selling parts of it off, leaving just enough for him and his family. "Come inside, read it with me." She unlocked her door and let Javert in, lighting the gas lamps in the main room.

* * *

Javert watched Lilybet set down her things, getting a good look at her for the first time. Her face had thinned in two weeks, her cheeks getting slightly hollower. There were dark circles under her eyes that Javert was not unfamiliar with himself.

He put a finger under her chin, gently raising her face to his. "What happened?"

He ran his thumb gently over each of the pouches. Her eyes filled with comprehension and she brushed his hand away, looking down at her feet.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She dismissed, going about her business. What had happened? What was so bad, so trying that she could not even bring herself to tell Javert?

"There is not… anyone else, is there?" he asked awkwardly. Maybe it wasn't probable, but it definitely could be a possibility.

Lilybet's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "No, there never could be." Well, at least there was that. She shook her head apologetically. "I can promise it isn't anything like that, but please, I don't want to talk about it right now. I don't even want to think about it."

After a moment of thinking, it suddenly came to Javert what it could be. He stepped closer to her, slightly self-conscious because of the cane. The bandages were wound tightly around his torso and back, making him stiff and reminding him constantly how close he was to losing either Lilybet or his life.

"I am not going anywhere, you know this." He said softly. She looked at him again, her eyes imploring him to continue. "This situation is nothing I cannot handle. There is a reason they put me in this position; I am the most qualified. God will protect me, I will protect the law, and I will protect you."

Lilybet's lower lip trembled and she lunged for Javert. He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the pain of the impact, and yet when he opened them again he saw that she stopped just short of contact, instead gently moving into him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest and Javert put his free hand on her mane of honey-brown locks. He looked up and prayed that what he said would be true when time ran out. Something was coming, they could all feel it. The riot was only the beginning. Javert knew he had to do two things: lead the police against these schoolboys, and keep Lilybet as far away from it as he could. As far away from those schoolboys as he could. In truth, he did not know if he would come out of it alive- what he did know was that if he died, he would die in the name of justice. One look at Lilybet's cheeks and eyes told Javert that she did not need to be told that.

She looked up, meeting his eyes. Her lips parted slightly and she stood on her tip toes. Javert met her halfway- normally, he would not dare kiss her unless they were upstairs in her flat or in some back room, but now they both needed the solace that only they could provide for each other. He tried to convey his concern, his love, and everything else he could not say through the kiss, and he knew, somehow, she understood.

Yet he could not shake the voice in the back of his head, nagging him to stop, warning him that he was getting closer than he could afford. _Don't you know what you're doing to her? _It asked. _You're pulling her closer, you're only drawing out more tears that she'll shed over your grave. She won't know you died in the name of justice, she'll only see that you're dead and she's alone._

"Go read your letter" he said quietly after pulling away, more so to drown out the voice than anything else. Javert watched as Lilybet unfolded the paper, her smile widening with each line.

Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes shining. "My uncle wants me to travel into the country to see him next weekend."

"I am very happy for you."

"Come with me!"

This caught Javert off-guard. She always spoke so fondly of this uncle of hers, did Javert really mean enough for her to want him to meet him? But no, nobody could know they went away together. If people knew how Javert felt about Lilybet, she would automatically be in danger. He was a target of these revolutionaries, he knew that; he also knew that they would not hesitate to try to use Lilybet to get to him.

"I must work."

"You don't have work on weekends."

"I go to the station every Saturday-"

"-to voluntarily fill out paperwork."

"We should not be seen together."

"If we leave early in the morning we won't be, plus it's half a day's ride outside Paris so it's far enough for nobody to recognize you anywhere near there."

He thought for a moment. It _did_ make sense, he supposed. Still- he did not want to impose on her family. "I do not wish to-"

"-please? Etienne? Please? It would mean a lot if you came." She looked up at him with those wide, blue eyes that had quickly begun to bother him with the effect they had.

"Stop it with my name and that look. It will not work forever."

"But did it work now?"

"…yes."

She clapped her hands together excitedly. "Oh, yes! Thank you so much, I'm so excited for you to meet him, you'll love my Uncle Theodore." Javert nodded in response, waving a hand in defeat, when in reality he was actually a bit excited. He had never really gone on a holiday before, no matter how small. "Oh, Javert?" the calmer voice made him look up. Lilybet was staring at him, her head cocked slightly to the side. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much you've helped me, today especially."

He had no idea how much of a needed escape this was for her; something to look forward to, the northern star among this beak darkness.

* * *

**_Author's Note: I hope you guys liked it! Sorry if Lilybet's a little drawn on here, I just really wanted to delve into how she and Javert felt for a bit. It's a tough situation so of course she's pretty darn torn. Also I hope you guys liked the bit of fluff at the end :3 Let me know if you guys liked it! And as some of you may remember me talking about, OUTING CHAPTER NEXT! :D Get your dentists ready, here come the cavities. _**


	34. Chapter 33

**_Author's Note: Howdy! So I've decided to break the outing thing into two chapters because a) I got carried away and accidentally made it balls-long so far and b) because it's taking so long to write that I figure I'll leave this here and the rest will be up within a week :) This chapter and the next one will kind of be a respite from the revolution and what not, but don't worry, things will speed up afterwards :) Thanks so much for reading, I hope you guys like it!  
_**

* * *

Javert had not seen Lilybet since the night he walked her home two weeks ago; ever since agreeing to accompany her for the weekend, Javert had been going back and forth as to whether he really should go or not.

On one hand, with all of Paris slowly rumbling towards the unthinkable, he may not be able to afford leaving for two whole days- who knows what could happen? Besides, he could only imagine what Lilybet's uncle would think when his beloved niece brought home a policeman nearly twice her age. Javert had never been to any family gatherings, nor was he welcome to anyone else's; what made him think he would be accepted at this one? He would often have to remind himself that he was indeed invited. Lilybet had even shown him the ink on paper that granted her permission to bring him.

Despite the battle raging in his head, Javert found himself telling his superiors that he had to go away for two days and asking Lilybet what he had to pack.

"Well, what did you pack when you moved from city to city?" she had asked him.

"Everything."

"Well pack a little bit less than that."

In the end, she had given Javert a list of things to bring with him which he had packed as soon as he had a free moment- to be prepared, he told himself. Javert did not want to admit how eager he actually was.

When Saturday morning finally came, Javert got up at five in the morning and wrote a list of thing for Sophie to do while he was gone. Afterwards, he sat at his lonely little table and ate a bowl of porridge, hardly registering his surroundings. A strange, anxious feeling filled his belly- did people normally feel like this before going on trips? It was similar to the feeling of butterflies he had that Christmas night on the balcony that felt so long ago. He could hardly believe where he was now; as recent as six months ago Javert would never have dreamed that he would be going on an outing to the country with a woman. He never would have dreamed of someone caring so much for him that they invited him to their childhood home. He never dreamed that he would care enough about them to go. Yet here he was.

At five-thirty he put the dish in the sink for Sophie to wash and set out into the not-yet-light streets of Paris.

When he arrived at the shop, Javert was relieved to find that there was not a soul in sight. He briefly wished that they did not have to sneak around, that he could properly ask for Lilybet's hand and walk the streets arm in arm: but he could never do that to her. What kind of a reputation would that give her? People in upper circles knew that the duchess of Bourbon had a "bourgeoisie cousin"; he could only imagine the gossip it would create for her if they found out that that cousin was being courted by the old inspector with the gypsy mother and convict father. She could lose business for her shop, even. And those schoolboys- she had declared her love for him in front of them- what kind of danger would they put her in if they knew how close she was to Javert?

Not to mention the fact that weddings were expensive, and sometimes Javert would not even admit his salary to himself.

"Get the hell away from the door, I heard you the first ten knocks."

Javert had been so deep in thought that, evidently, he had not realized that he had been knocking on the door methodically for the last minute. When he laid eyes on Lilybet, he concluded that she was definitely not a morning person. She was slouched over, visibly making an effort to keep herself upright. One of her eyes was slightly more squinted with sleep than the other and her hair was mussed as if she had just woken up. His eyes traveled downwards to the white slip she was wearing… and nothing else.

He looked up above her head pointedly and cleared his throat. "Please put on clothes."

She grunted uncomprehendingly and looked down at herself. "Well, I woke up twenty minutes ago, what do you want from me?"

"And what have you been doing for those twenty minutes?" Javert asked, not trying to hide his exasperation.

"Packing."

"Really, now."

"Wipe that look off of your face."

"Your back is turned away from my face."

"Stop giving me sass or you can't go."

"You will not be going either unless you get yourself ready."

Lilybet turned around suddenly and blew a raspberry into Javert's face before once again resuming up the stairs.

"You said yourself that the carriage arrives at six, you have fifteen minutes." He reminded, his eyes following her

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah I know. Come help me."

"With what?" he asked, climbing the stairs after her. Javert walked into her little main room with its couches and fireplace and table. Her clothing was surprisingly organized for one who had just packed twenty minutes ago. Across the wooden table was strewn a rather nice lavender summer dress. Lilybet walked over to the table and picked it up. Javert had to remember to keep his eyes on her face… or really anything but her body in the slip- was she doing this to him on purpose, or was she really that shameless? If it was the latter, then how many other men had seen her in just a slip? They had even less of a right than Javert had, he thought with a pang.

She held the dress up. "Help me put this on, will you? Hold on, I'll go put on my chemise and I'll get the dress on as much as I can, I'll just need you to do up the back." With that, she left Javert in the room, stammering. Help her put on the dress? How?

"I am too old for this business." He sighed to himself.

"You're not old!" she yelled from the next room. He rolled his eyes; I should learn to keep my thoughts to myself, he mused. "Javert! Can you come in here please?" she called.

"I do not wish to see anything… inappropriate." He returned.

Lilybet stomped back into the room, holding her dress up at the front. "For Godsakes, you're a grown man." She turned her back to him and Javert stared uncomprehendingly at the laces and holes that went from between her shoulder blades to below her waist. "See?" she asked. "Nothing inappropriate. I just need you to do up this dress."

"How?" he asked blankly. For the next five minutes, Lilybet had to walk Javert through the far-too-complicated process of lacing her dress. By the end, he even gained a little bit more respect for the female sex and their patience for complicated clothing.

"Was that so hard?" she asked teasingly.

"For a piece of clothing, yes."

"Don't worry, it's much easier taking it off."

Silence.

Javert coughed at her sudden declaration, he looked down at his feet and felt his face grow warm. The fact that he reacted like this made him a little bit more embarrassed- she was right, he was a grown man, so why was he acting like a boy?

Lilybet's eyes widened after a moment as she realized what she had said. It made Javert feel less bad when her face grew beet red in the span of a few seconds and she stammered, her mouth gaping. "Oh, no, I didn't- I mean I- what I said- no- no, no no, I just meant as, you know, a fact. Not that you would be- shit, I didn't mean like that."

"I understand." He nodded. Part of him, he was surprised, was let down a little bit. They had been seeing each other long enough, why shouldn't she mean it that way? Of course, Javert would never touch her unless they got married, but she was free to say certain things, wasn't she?

No! The other part chided him. Just because Javert was born with animals does not give him leave to act like one.

Instead, he turned his attention to the clock- seven minutes to six.

"Finish getting ready" he told her.

"What else do I have to do?"

Instead of answering, Javert raised his eyes and nodded at her hair. She put a hand in the mane and shrugged at him. "Okay, just my hair, that's not much." Javert pointed to his right eye to signal her to the sleep still in her eye. Lilybet rubbed it out and flicked it to the floor. It was hard to believe that the prim and proper girl she could turn herself into was really this flighty, discombobulated creature. It was also hard to believe how much Javert preferred her this way than the made-up doll.

Nevertheless, she should have put more effort into getting herself ready earlier.

"You could at least try to make yourself presentable."

"You could at least try to make yourself less of an ass."

After a moment, she clicked her tongue and put her arms around Javert's neck (very gently; though he no longer wore his bandages, his wounds were still tender- including the two broken ribs it turned out that he had), looking up at him with wide, sleepy eyes. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being really catty. I'm just really tired, I hate mornings." Javert looked down at her, arms at his sides and head cocked. She groaned and crashed her forehead against his shoulder. "That's a sucky excuse too, I'm sorry. I'm just a mean person. A mean, tired person." Javert sent an amused puff of air out of his nose that was the closest thing he every really did to laughing. He gently kissed her forehead and waited for her little burst of guilt to pass. If anything, he had to admit that it was a bit adorable.

The sound of wheels on the cobblestone street outside of the open window made Lilybet detach herself from him.

"That'll be the carriage Uncle sent," she said softly, holding onto Javert at arm's length now. She gave a small, sincere smile. "I really am happy you're coming. It means so much that you're willing to travel all that way to meet my family."

"Of course." He responded. After a moment, he couldn't hold it back. "Your hair is still…"

She released him, putting her hands up. "Thank you, Javert." She responded sarcastically. "Do I look that bad?"

"Well, I do not think so, but you said before yourself that you wanted to look nice-"

"-oh, whatever. I'll just put my hair up right now." Lilybet smirked at Javert as she tied her hair up with a lavender ribbon. He was concerned about her; he knew that the weary look on her face was not just from waking up early- she had gotten thinner since the whole riot affair, and a few worry creases, not unlike Javert's, had begun to mark her forehead. She was still a girl, a child. She had no right forcing herself to carry so much stress.

That was also another reason Javert agreed to go: he was a large portion of her worries, so if he kept himself near her for at least that span of time, it gave her one less thing to fret over.

* * *

Once their bags were packed and tucked away in the carriage, the sun had almost risen over the city. Elisabet climbed into the carriage, almost fully awake now.

"It's going to be a five hour ride, but the driver says we'll have to make a two hour stop about half way to feed and rest the horses. Is that okay with you?" she asked. Javert nodded and leaned against the corner of the carriage, looking out the window at Paris passing by. Normally, Elisabet would go crazy on such a long ride, which is why when she saw her uncle it was usually he who came to Paris to see her. Now, however, she had Javert. If anything, it felt nice to have so much alone time with him. "You're going to have to change out of this police uniform, by the way."

He sharply turned to her as if she had just asked him to remove his ears. "What? Why?"

"Because you said you don't want to be noticed; well you stick out like a sore thumb! You must've packed normal clothes, right?"

"I only have two pairs."

"Well then put that on when we make our stop, okay? Please"

He ground his teeth for a minute before finally giving in. "Fine."

"Thank you" she tried to say sweetly; it was hard, her voice was still raspy from the morning. She leaned back on the seat, feeling the gentle bump and sway of the carriage. Elisabet closed her eyes and told herself to relax- this was going to be a good, happy weekend. Suddenly, an urge hit her that made her scoot closer to Javert, who was still staring out the window. She fiddled with her hands in her lap and didn't look up. "Hey, Javert? Etienne? Can I lean on you maybe?"

"Hm?"

"I just… it's kind of dumb but could I maybe lean against you instead of the hard carriage back?"

He looked down as well. "I do not think it would look appropria-"

"-absolutely no one sees us right now." Appropriate, appropriate, it was always what was appropriate.

"Well… very well."

"Do you not want me to?"

"I would not mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Thanks."

He rearranged himself to sit more openly, leaning one arm on the back of the seat and the other on the small windowsill. Elisabet nestled herself in between the crook of his arm and his shoulder, leaning her head on his chest and listening to his slow, even breathing.

"If this gets annoying let me know." She told him.

"I will" he promised. She curled up on the seat, nuzzling into his shoulder. She smiled softly to herself, fiddling with a button on Javert's uniform. She breathed in his cottony-musky smell and felt the hairs of his closely-cropped beard tickle her forehead. All of her fears were pushed into the distance and she concentrated only on Javert's steady heartbeat and the soft rumbling of the carriage.

At that moment, Elisabet truly believed that life couldn't possibly get any better.

She let out a deep sigh and, despite how awake she felt only moments ago, closed her eyes for a quick, five minute nap.

"Wake up, Mademoiselle."

Elisabet felt something gently nudge her as she slowly returned to consciousness. She registered Javert's voice almost immediately; she also registered that he still wouldn't use her first name.

"I'm sorry, who were you speaking to? There's no one named 'Mademoiselle' here." Without opening her eyes, she arched her back in a stretch and curled further into Javert's side.

He sighed. This time, she thought she heard the smile in his voice. "Up" was all he said, removing his arm and stepping out the door. With nothing to lean on, Elisabet let herself fall sideways. Her neck cracked painfully when she hit the edge of the seat, her head bobbing out of the carriage. She slid forward and her heart raced for half a second before she felt hands on her shoulders , stopping her fall.

She turned herself around, still not bothering to rise. She squinted up at Javert in the sudden and too bright sunlight. "What's going on?" she asked.

"The driver is depositing us at the square of a town, he is taking the horses to feed and rest at a stable just outside of it. He will be back in two hours' time."

The fact that this town was just now starting to awaken was a testament to just how early Javert and Elisabet left.

She grabbed the bundle of Javert's street clothes and stepped out of the carriage. She looked at the shops surrounding the cobblestone square, the little apple stand, the circular stone fountain, the bridge in the distance that so many homeless called home…

"Montreuil su Mer" she gasped.

The little town seemed frozen in time; not a thing had changed since Elisabet had last seen it. During her first three years of university, she hardly ever went back. After the winter of her last year, the winter her father had died, she never went back.

"It is." Javert confirmed. He slipped his hand into his pocket and seemed to feel for something before pulling it out again.

Elisabet walked forward, transfixed by her memories. She stared at the grocer's cart and heard the wretched screams of a hungry thief. She glanced at Javert, who was watching her curiously. She wondered what she and him would do if they were thrust into the same situation now. Elisabet liked to think that she would still make the same decision. She knew she would. She nodded firmly to herself, trying to shake the memories off. The man would have gotten out of prison sometime in these past few months, she reflected vaguely. How strange, that so much had changed for her since then. How much she had grown, learned, loved, lost, and loved again- all while a poor wretch slaved away under the cold hand of the law to try and save children that probably weren't even alive anymore.

She felt a spasm of anger at Javert; he would have made the same decision as well, she knew. The black-and-white justice that she had tried so hard to break him free of.

The frustration melted away when she turned again to the fountain and heard long-forgotten echoes of children's' laughter as they played with a little ball of rags. Her feet carried her to the base of the fountain where she sat down, her mind occupied by the square and the memories it held. She rubbed her eyes when they grew hot with guilty tears as she remembered the creak of a cart and the delighted cries of a little angel who never saw it coming.

Elisabet knew where she had to go.

"You are unwell."

She blinked up at Javert. His hand was hovering inches from her shoulder.

"I'm alright. Just… remembering."

He paused, now placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. "It is no more your fault now than it was ten years ago."

She mulled his words over for a moment, more touched by his concern than convinced of their validity. "I have to go somewhere." She stood and turned towards where the bridge was.

"Where?" Javert asked, immediately at her side.

Elisabet could not bring herself to say the word 'grave'. Instead, she swallowed, "To visit someone to… to pay my respects."

"I would rather you did not go under that bridge."

"I have to."

"It is dangerous."

"I know." Elisabet turned and placed a hand on Javert's cheek; nobody knew them here anymore, so what was the harm in that? "But I have to do this. For myself. I promise I'll be careful. I promise."

"Then I will accompany you."

"I'd rather be alone."

"Well I would rather you not go, but we both must make compromises."

They both knew that the other would not back down, so Elisabet tried to make the best of the situation. "Fine then, walk me there, but then leave somewhere. I'll meet you back at the fountain an hour from now."

Javert nodded begrudgingly. "Very well. But if you are not here in precisely one hour, I will be forced to scour the town. I am still a high ranking officer, I must have some pull in this area."

"You worry too much about me and not enough about yourself."

"I could say the same to you, Mademoiselle."

"That's diff-" she began to challenge, but cut herself off upon seeing Javert's raised eyebrow. She huffed. "Oh, fine."

When they arrived at the bridge, Javert assumed the quick, purposeful stride of the Inspector. He pulled Elisabet with him and she had to lightly jog just to prevent him from pulling her arm out of its socket.

"Nobody's going to attack you, they're barely awake!"

"I do not wish to attract attention."

"You're attracting it by running!" She barely had time to look around during her protest before they emerged on the other side of the bridge, in the little patch of grass next to the stream. Her thoughts dissolved and Elisabet walked around the area, searching.

Finally, she saw a little mound- very insignificant; she would have missed it if she had not been specifically searching- with wildflowers growing on it. In the middle, she saw after clearing away the weeds, was a large rock.

She fell to her knees on the soft ground. After a moment, she heard a voice from behind.

"I will be at the fountain within an hour. In the meantime, I will see if I can find a café to eat in."

Elisabet merely nodded in response. She stared down at the mound, unable to speak, but instead tried to communicate with her thoughts. She prayed for little Mona's soul, for whatever became of her brother and his friends, for her mother, father, brother, herself, and for Javert. She told Mona all of her current problems, how her life was being torn apart at the seams and no matter which path she chose it would inevitably cause even more deaths.

"First my family, then you, and now… this." she murmured, her body turned to lead. "I sometimes think the only reason I'm still alive is because lucifer is sheltering me because I cause more deaths than his Grim Reaper." Tears now stung her eyes, but nevertheless, she continued, unable to stop her thoughts. "Please, Mona. Please Mother, Father, or whatever God above is listening to me- take me. If my death will stop the deaths of at least one of them: one of the boys or Javert, strike me down. I don't want to hurt them anymore. I don't want to hurt Javert. I love him, I don't want to be responsible for hurting him. He's so good. He doesn't see it but he is, albeit a little bit misguided. It's he who belongs in heaven with the Lord, not me. I'm just a spoiled, immature woman who causes destruction everywhere. I don't deserve him. I try to help, I try to help with my medicines and herbs, but how much does that do? In the end I'll end up hurting whoever gets close to me. If I'm the reason they'll die, if I'm the reason that a single one of my boys dies, then kill me before I can cause that. Please, I don't want to let anyone down anymore. I love you, Mona."

Elisabet sat there a while, clutching her knees and rocking back and forth with sobs. This was good, however; it was a release that she had needed for so long. Sitting here, confessing her sins made her feel like the searing, painful fire within her was slowly simmering down- it did not extinguish completely, but it got a lot better.

Eventually, she felt that she should move on. She said one more prayer of thanks and stood after kissing the rock and whispering goodbye to her little friend. Once Elisabet had wandered back into the main square, she looked at a nearby clock- she still had twenty five minutes left. Javert was nowhere to be seen, so she presumed he was off wandering about himself.

I'll go to my old house, for old times' sake, she thought.

When she arrived, Elisabet was happy to see that it was in use and not boarded up and decaying. Her father's shop had become a textile store, the upstairs now used as not an extension of the house, but a separate flat. A trace of nostalgia bit at her and made her stay in the area and hover about the shop for a few minutes, not wanting to go inside. She wanted the last memory of it to be of her old house: not quite a home, but the place where she grew and matured and met Javert. All kinds of memories swirled about her head- happy, sad, indifferent- and she was lost in her memories until-

"Mademoiselle Barbier, I must ask you to state your business here to ensure no suspicious activity is going on."

"What-?" Elisabet was caught off guard. Had the rules become stricter since she left? Was she not allowed to stand in front of her old stomping ground for a few minutes? She became irritated until it registered that she had been referred to as 'Mademoiselle Barbier'… and that voice sounded oddly familiar.

She raised her eyes to the tall, young Inspector atop a chestnut stallion. His beard was handsomely cropped to highlight his strong jaw and his black hair nearly swept his eyebrows, under which poked out two brilliantly emerald eyes.

"Everett Martin?!" she gasped.

The inspector grinned as he spurred his horse towards a pole. He hopped off and tied the stallion before approaching Elisabet. She could not contain her surprise as a phantom of her childhood sauntered over, holding his arms open. She had not seen Everett in ten years; ever since she was replaced with Clarice, Elisabet rejected his advances after he realized her cousin had moved on to grander things. He did manage to go after a few other girls and, for Elisabet at least, his cocky attitude and simplemindedness only reminded her of how much she had missed her old friend.

Nonetheless, he wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug, laughing. "You have not aged a day, Lily."

Well, some things never change, she thought.

"When did you decide to grow a beard?" she asked, not seeing the point in correcting the man.

"Few years back. God, how long has it been? What are you now, twenty-two? Twenty-three?"

"Twenty-five" she answered, a bit sheepishly. "You've got to be twenty-nine right now, right?"

"You always were good at math." He said appreciatively. "How are you? What brings you to Montreuil?"

"I stopped here on my way to visit my uncle in the country, but I think the question is what are you _still _doing here?"

"Good job, good pay. I stayed here and worked my way up, and finally two years ago I was made-"

"-an inspector." Elisabet finished, nodding.

Everett puffed his chest out proudly. "Of the whole Montreuil su Mer police force."

"Good for you!"

"Good for the town." He grinned and cocked his eyebrow exaggeratedly. Elisabet laughed. It was not entirely impossible that he had matured. "How is your cousin?" Ah, there it was.

Clarice. Of course. "She's doing well. You know, duchess duties and all that." After she shrugged, they fell into the awkward silence of reunited acquaintances.

"Oh, pardon, I realize I called you Mademoiselle earlier, I apologize if that was incorrect-"

"nope," she cut across, "still correct." At least he had the tact to not ask it outright, as so many had.

He furrowed his brow. "Really? I would've thought that you'd have to have been beating suitors back with a stick."

Elisabet involuntarily blushed at his subtle compliment. She thought she had begun to see what he was doing but… no, surely he wouldn't try and woo her after such a long time apart. "There were some in my time," she admitted, "but I didn't feel anything for any of them. Are you married?"

He shook his head. "We're in the same boat, Lily." He stared into Elisabet's face as he spoke. "How long will you be staying in town?" He put one hand on her shoulder. Damn it, she thought.

"Oh, not long at all." She pointed to the area with the fountain, eager for an escape. "As a matter of fact, I have to go meet-"

"-perhaps you would do me the honor of allowing me to take you to lunch? We could catch up."

Elisabet opened and closed her mouth stupidly, suddenly feeling very awkward. Everett Martin was a nice enough man, and certainly a very handsome one, but there was a reason she did not keep in contact with him, and that was her impatience for the simplemindedness of his that she once found so quaint and charming. Besides, reuniting with someone she had so little in common with and who had so much in common with her perfect cousin was not her idea of a fun time.

* * *

After eating breakfast at a small café he used to stop at in the mornings when he lived in Montreuil su Mer, Javert thought he would take a stroll through the town for the remaining half hour. He was very conscious of the curious glances he was receiving from passers-by. Afterall, he had not changed out of his officer garb yet and, though he was carrying the civilian clothes in his bag, they only saw an unfamiliar, obviously high-ranking officer strolling amongst them. He kept his eyes forward and pretended not to notice them.

Javert hoped that there would not be anyone there who recognized him: the last thing he wanted was word of this little excursion getting back to Paris. Ever since he had gotten out of the hospital, his men had been regarding him with a changed air; instead of treating him like their impassive and stoic leader like they should have been doing, they seemed to have gotten more personal, more casual. If an officer had to take a day off for whatever reason, they would always be sure to tell Javert that he had to see a woman he was courting or his wife- why in the world should he care? They were not his friends, they were not his colleagues, they were his subordinates. As long as they were not breaking the law, he did not give a wink what they did with their personal lives. Besides, it wouldn't do anything anyway. He never took time off of his official schedule to see Lilybet, and the others had no more right than he. The gossiping had also gotten worse; Javert was sure that they were speaking of him now, and they even resorted to using her name sometimes. How dare they judge her? And how dare they assume that they were not married because Javert wanted to only 'fool around'?

Of course, he would never admit to them the reason. In fact he very much would have liked to be with her in that sense. But the fact remained that she was a young, vibrant, upper-middle class girl and he was an old man whose blood should have never allowed him to get promoted, and society knew it. Also, it was no secret that though the government provided him with a house and a maid, his pay was next to nothing. He had no life or security to offer her. He would not even be able to pay for a ring right now.

Suddenly, he had a strong urge to go through the park. He walked slowly through, smelling the fragrant flowers growing on the sides of the path. He turned to the side and slowed his walk until he stopped in front of a small wooden bench. He looked down at it, his pale green eyes watching a memory. He remembered Lilybet giving him the blue tarp, he remembered her face when he told her he was leaving and would not be returning. Javert reached into his pocket and pulled out the little white flower with the pearl in the middle and fingered the soft silk petals. So many questions, so many fears bubbled up inside of him- what of this upcoming 'revolution'? What would happen if he were to die? What would happen to Lilybet?

He closed his eyes and shook his head. For now, at least, he had to focus on other things. He pressed the flower gently to his nose before pocketing it and moving on out of the park.

It was when Javert crossed onto Lilybet's old street that he heard a vaguely familiar voice. He immediately turned in the direction of it.

It was like the past was manifesting itself in the present, Javert almost didn't believe his eyes. He stood, watching Officer Martin, clad in inspector's garb talking to, though her back was turned, who he was sure was Lilybet.

He watched as Martin took half a step closer and put a hand on Lilybet's shoulder.

"…do me the honor of allowing me to take you to lunch? We could catch up."

The phrase drifted to Javert's ears and a feeling he was not quite ready for hit him in the stomach.

Javert had always judged himself to be a calm, rational man: and so it was a surprise to him when a beast in the pit of his belly let out a roar loud enough to ring in his skull.

_Mine_.

It set his insides aflame until he finally pushed himself forward at a brisk pace. It was not so much jealousy- no, Javert had nothing to be jealous of, Lilybet was with him- so much as it was a feeling of primitive possessiveness that he supposed every man must feel over a woman he had feelings for. If he were not so controlled by the beast at the time, Javert would have felt a tiny bit of shame at his normally civilized self.

For now, however, it kept on roaring the word, egging him on, speaking through him.

"Cher." Javert said pointedly, putting his hand on Lilybet's other shoulder. She turned to him, wide eyed, and Javert suddenly realized what he had just said.

Martin looked from Lilybet to Javert until comprehension dawned on his face. His hand dropped from her shoulder and he looked at Javert, brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I- Javert? Inspector Javert?"

Lilybet began speaking slowly, clearly still hung up on Javert's unprecedented term of endearment. "Yes, Everett, you remember the Inspector?"

"Y-yes of course, hello sir."

They shook hands and Lilybet went on, "Inspector Javert is the Inspecteur Général of Paris." Though her smile was pleasant, Javert noticed the glint in her eye: though Lilybet often played the mouse, he knew that she relished trapping people that she was less than fond of in awkward situations, and she smelled her mouse as soon as Javert walked over.

He knew that he should not be condemning her behavior, but a part of him enjoyed watching Martin realize that he and Javert were once again on different positions… and this time, Martin was the one who was alone.

With a furrowed brow, the young man spoke, still trying to assert himseld "What a coincidence. What brings you to town again, sir? I've been managing it well myself, I'm sure you've found. I was just asking Lily to lunch."

Javert paused; on one hand, he was in a town that no longer knew him or Lilybet. On the other, he was still both a Christian and a gentleman, and as such he would feel improper telling anyone about their journey.

"I am escorting Mademoiselle Lilybet on her trip." He finally said. That sounded alright, he assumed, yet the words still felt awkward on his lips.

Martin raised his chin and smiled sincerely at Javert. "That's good of you, Inspector. After Monsieur Barbier's passing I think it's very noble of you to try and give Mademoiselle Lily a father figure."

When Javert looked into his eyes, it seemed as though Martin's words were sincere; yet a part of Javert was cut to the quick. He glanced at Lilybet and saw her flare up like an angry cobra, her shoulders back and her teeth gritted, her eyes flashing violently.

She took a step forward so that she was looking directly up at Martin. She began loudly, "_Actually_-"

"-We may be running late, Mademoiselle, it is time to go." Javert pulled Lilybet by the elbow and kept a good grip as they were walking away. Whatever else, he knew what happened when she got that look- to unleash that on the poor boy was nothing short of cruel.

"Let me go!" She snarled; his grip only tightened.

"It is not worth it." Javert said firmly.

"I have to say something!"

"Say something about something else."

"Let me hit him a little bit."

"You will get arrested."

"You can get me out!"

"Not for that stupidity."

"Well you're an ass too!"

"Just keep walking."

Lilybet stopped and turned her head. "_My name's not LILY._" She shouted to a very bewildered Martin. She huffed heavily and Javert marched on; this was yet another reason Javert was no good for her.

If only he was not condemned by his blood, if only he was twenty years younger…

* * *

Elisabet's blood pounded in her ears as Javert dragged her along like a child from a candy store. She knew Martin wasn't the brightest, but he was immature as well?

When they returned to the fountain, Javert loosened his grip at the same time as Elisabet tried to jerk free again, causing her to stumble and fall backwards onto a bench. Heated by both her anger and embarrassment from the fall, she turned to Javert, maybe a bit too harshly:

"Why didn't you let me say anything?"

"Because he was only being honest." He replied, a little sadly.

Elisabet opened her mouth to protest but stopped when Javert shook his head at her dejectedly.

One of the things that made Javert different was that looking into his cool, calm pale green eyes had the remarkably frustrating ability to sap her of her anger: which it was doing effectively right now.

Elisabet sighed, stepping closer to Javert until her face was inches from his as she looked up at him. She put her hands on his arms and sighed, "He's an idiot. You know that, right? He thinks my name is Lily."

"Regardless, the age difference-"

"-means _nothing_. My friend Rachel? Her husband is in his fifties."

"An arranged marriage."

"So what?! The point is you could be sixty and I wouldn't care. It's who you are that counts."

"Change the subject."

"But-"

"-please."

Elisabet bit her bottom lip. Clearly, this was not something he liked discussing, yet she wished that she could show him that she really didn't care. He was her confidante, her best friend, and the man she loved- and handsome, at that.

Nevertheless, she and Javert were similar in this way- if they didn't want to talk about something, it would no longer be a topic of dicussion. She took a step back and allowed her arms to fall to her sides, turning around.

"Well, we have a little under and hour left. You still have to change into your people clothes."

"People clothes?"

"You know, non-uniform."

"Does my uniform look like it was made for a fish?"

"Don't be wise."

"One of us should be."

Elisabet waited a moment, wanting to catch Javert by surprise. No doubt he would be expecting her to say something snarky or retaliate right away, but not this time. She swung around with her arms forward, intending to startle and push him.

The misfire occurred when he took a step back and she stumbled, falling forwards. Why he thinks he's old, I'll never know, she thought as he spun around and caught her by the back of her dress and pulled her back up.

Though his mouth was even and composed, Elisabet saw the utter amusement in Javert's eyes as he let go of her, his head cocked to the side like a curious sparrow. She fleetingly wished that he would allow himself to show it on his whole face.

"Smug bastard" she muttered, straightening her dress.

It suddenly occurred to her that the word bastard would come off as offensive to someone like him.

Her eyes darted to him quickly, but he gave no sign of offense.

"Let's go find and inn or something where you can change." She said carefully.

Resigned, Javert replied, "Very well."

As they walked, it suddenly hit Elisabet what he had referred to her as earlier.

"You called me Cher." She said slowly. A grin breaking out onto her face.

Elisabet clapped her hands in delight when she saw Javert look positively mortified at himself.

"You may have misheard." He replied, though his brisk walk betrayed him.

"Did I now? Did I mishear you, _ma petite chou_?"

"Stop it."

"_Mon canard en sucre_?"

"That is not clever."

"_Poulette-_"

"-I can leave you to finish this journey on your own." He said firmly.

"You, Monsieur Inspector, are a damp rag on a pristine canvas."

"I prefer that to the pet names."

"I just think it's cute you called me cher!"

"There is an inn right there."

"Killjoy." Elisabet muttered before marching ahead through the door.

After making an explanation that they just wanted the room for an hour to change, a very bewildered and suspicious landlady led Elisabet and Javert to a small room.

Elisabet sat down on the bed and waited as Javert took out his clothes, unfolded them, and hung them neatly, and then went into the bathroom to change, and neatly folding and packing his uniform.

She rolled her eyes at his meticulousness; _he's more anal than I am_.

Finally, when he emerged, Elisabet had to do a double take. He was wearing a simple, black cap, blue shirt with a black vest over it, and black trousers.

"I almost didn't recognize you!" she laughed: it was sad, but to an extent, Javert's uniform was a part of him. Without it, he almost looked like a different person. She looked him up and down a few more times. "You really don't own much outside of the bruise colors, do you?" she asked. Navy blue and black, nothing else.

"I apologize that I put practicality before appearance." He snorted.

"Well it doesn't hurt to do vice versa every once in a while." She shrugged. It then occurred to Elisabet that they were alone in a room with nobody near who could disturb them. She looked at him, just as handsome in street clothes as in his uniform, and put her arms around his neck, speaking into his shoulder. "Wait. Before we go back, I just… just want you to know that I really am happy you're here. And thanks for saving me from that awkward situation with Everett. I'm just really happy we found each other again in Paris. I'm happy about us. I don't know what I'd do without you."

To her surprise, Javert hugged back with little hesitation. After a small squeeze, he held her in front of him, his eyes uncharacteristically soft but perplexed. "What brought that about?"

"I dunno… I wanted to tell you how I felt, I guess."

Javert tightened his lips into what may have been a tiny smile. "You have made me happier than I deserve to be, Mademoiselle."

"Oh, shut it," she said playfully, smiling, "I've got the whole rest of the weekend to make you happy, this isn't even the half of it."

After the welcome moment of tenderness, the two returned to the fountain until the carriage arrived. As Elisabet settled back into the crook of Javert's arm for the rest of their journey, her excitement mounted as she thought of seeing her uncle again. It was as if they were in a bubble for these next two days; she just hoped that it wouldn't pop before the weekend was over.


	35. Chapter 34

**_Author's Note: Hello all! So I'm going to warn you that this chapter is really long- if you don't dig that I'm sorry! But I worked hard trying to keep everything as IC as possible, so I hope you guys like it :) Thank you so much for being patient with my snail's pace updates, I've really been working hard on this story. Also thank you for the wonderful reviews, they really do drive me along well!_**

**Anyway, I warned you a while ago about the sugary cotton candy fluff of the outing so don't say I didn't. Hope you have a toothbrush nearby to prevent the cavities :3 Enjoy! :)**

* * *

The carriage rumbled to a halt and Lilybet practically jumped up out of her seat. Javert almost immediately felt a gust of cold where her body had just been, causing him to wake up.

"Come on, we're here." A soft voice said. Javert opened his eyes to see Lilybet smiling at him, her face, for the first time in weeks, genuinely happy. At that moment, he truly believed that there was no better sight to wake up to: as a result, he absentmindedly stared into her face for a few seconds as he transitioned into full consciousness.

The driver opened the door and Lilybet hopped out before Javert could climb out himself to assist her. She placed a tip into the driver's hand and thanked him and took her bags into her hands.

"I will take those." Javert said firmly, taking her things as well as his own. His stomach did flips as he turned his head and looked up the dirt path that split an otherwise green meadow with a white house in the distance.

"It's only about a five minute walk" Lilybet answered his unspoken question, squinting at the home in the sunlight. She set off at a quick, eager pace and Javert trotted beside her. Would he get along with her family? Would they look down on Javert? Would this weekend pass well? Questions raced through Javert's mind and his mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"You okay?" Lilybet was looking at him with confused concern. Dear Lord, did he really look that nervous? Javert nodded briefly in return. She stepped closer and nudged his arm with her elbow, "Hey, don't worry. This weekend will be great." Javert stopped to appreciate the fact that Lilybet could understand him so acutely with him saying so little.

The sun beat down on them with almost no clouds in the sky to shade it. He kept looking forward as he walked, feeling his forehead becoming slightly moist; the black clothes were really taking their toll. After a few minutes, Javert began to see rolling hills behind the house, some cows out on the pasture in the distance and a chicken coup in the opposite fence. He started to understand why the place was so dear to Lilybet- it had a very classic, quaint charm to it.

The house itself was two, possibly three stories tall made with whitewashed wood. There was a wrap-around porch, on which a man sat asleep in a rocking chair.

"Ho there!" Lilybet called. "Haven't you heard it's rude to doze off when you're waiting for guests?"

Without removing the hat from his eyes, the man replied, clear as day, "'Guest' is a strong word. You're more of a nuisance."

"You shouldn't sit here too long, I heard prunes dry out when they're left out in the sun."

"The word you are looking for is plum."

"Prune."

"Idiot."

Javert watched the exchange, dumbfounded. Was this the right house? Was this the right uncle?

He stood, looking between the two of them.

Like the sun peeking out after a storm, Lilybet's expression changed and she began to laugh, her features brightening. The man raised his hat and stood with his arms open, and Javert could not help but notice the fact that his grin was exactly the same as Lilybet's. She ran into his arms and Javert stood awkwardly as they hugged, unsure of what to make of the situation that just occurred.

He shuffled his feet.

He watched the cows graze.

"Uncle! This is the man I was telling you about." Javert's head snapped up at his referral. Out of habit, he stood straight, his chest puffed out and his shoulders back.

"At ease, soldier." Her uncle said, grinning as he did an over exaggerated salute. Javert bit his lip and tried not to turn pink as he contemplated the fact that he was staying in the home of who seemed to be a male Lilybet. He was about her height, with a stockier build that could only come from a life of farming. He was balding, with whitish-blonde hair and a thick beard of the same color. He had Lilybet's crooked nose and, though his eyes were brown, they had the same vivacious twinkle.

The man stuck out his hand confidently, "Herriot."

Javert hesitated half a second before responding, "Inspector Javert, Paris Police." He finally said. Behind her uncle, he saw Lilybet cock an eyebrow and cross her arms- well what did she want? It was how he introduced himself to everyone.

After letting go of Javert's hand, Herriot put his hands on his hips and looked Javert up and down. "You are the man my niece wrote letters to me about- what was it you called him, Betty?"

"You know I hate that nickname-"

"-a… knight in navy blue uniform? The heroic inspector?"

Lilybet made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whine and scowled at her uncle, beet red. Javert almost wanted to laugh.

Herriot continued, a content little smile on his face while still looking at Javert, most likely aware of his niece's embarrassment. "Your… silent Prince Charming?"

"That's not even one I used!"

He spun around to her, "Ah, but you admit to the other two." Herriot turned back to Javert with a little bow, "There you have it, Monsiuer, the names that have given me pre-judgement of your character, straight from the horse's mouth. Follow me inside, both of you."

Lilybet stomped over to Javert. "I didn't call you those names."

"You never told me about 'Betty'."

"Just get inside." She walked ahead of him. Javert looked down at his feet and allowed himself a small smirk. He still felt incredibly out of place on a country outing, moreover a welcome houseguest. However maybe, just maybe, he would have a nice time.

* * *

Elisabet kept her head down as she walked into the house, her face on fire- well, it was her own fault for expecting Uncle would act any different just because she brought company.

"Can you please not call me Betty? I've hated that since I was six and you know that." She pleaded with him.

He responded by putting an arm around her shoulder and kissing her on the cheek. "Oh, alright. You never come to visit, I haven't seen you in months. I needed to get it all out of my system."

"I don't believe you're finished."

"Well then you're a smart girl."

Javert walked through the door and Elisabet suddenly felt guilty for leaving him with all of the bags. She went over to him and tried to take one when something brushing up against her leg made her jump; then she looked down and stared into the yellow eyes of her childhood tormentor.

"Hello, you fat little shit" she said in her sweetest, most pleasant voice. Elisabet stooped down to pet the gray tabby cat, but when she neared his head, he batted at her with a sharply-clawed paw and hissed loudly. She quickly pulled her hand away and kicked the useless sack of fur. Well, some things never changed.

"Lilybet, show our guest upstairs. Will you two be sharing a room?"

"No." Javert answered before Elisabet could even open her mouth.

Her uncle glanced between the two of them. "Very well. Child you know the house, just find two unoccupied rooms. Agathe is out back with the chickens, she'll want to fuss over you. Also your cousin is here as well, with your nephew. They're staying for dinner."

Though they did not compare to Clarice, Uncle's daughters were not much fun either- Elisabet recalled how they used to walk around haughtily and remind her that she wasn't a direct part of the family, only their father's sister's daughter. She always did think they blended into the farm, though- one was a cow and the other was a goose.

"Which one?" she asked, not bothering to hide her grimace.

"Lilia-Valentine."

Ah. So the goose.

Elisabet gestured for Javert to follow her upstairs, nerves suddenly bubbling in her stomach. She had not seen Lilia-Valentine since a few months after her wedding years ago… which meant she had a five year old nephew she had never met.

They briefly entered the guest room, with its blue twin bed and blank white wallpaper.

"Your uncle and you are very similar." Javert finally spoke up on his own for the first time.

She turned to him, "No, see, _he's_ annoying, I'm-" Elisabet glanced at Javert's raised eyebrow. She playfully shoved him. "-stop that! But he really is great, he's always been like a second father to me. I spent eight years of my life here. This was my room." She stepped into the small area… it was almost exactly the same. With the exception of the absence of little things like photographs, books, and clothes, the room's features were very similar to when she inhabited it. The wallpaper was still a soft peach, the bedding a mint green color. The first thing she did when she entered was sit down on the mattress- it was always large enough for two people, but back then it seemed like it sprawled out forever.

Elisabet blinked and returned herself to the present. She looked up at Javert, still standing stiffly in the doorway. "Well, come in, put those down!" she said. He stood in front of her and she took his hands, leaning her head against his abdomen. "Where do you want to sleep, here or the guest room?"

"I will take whatever room is assigned to me."

"These aren't army barracks, for Godssakes, just choose a room."

"Then I will be in the other room."

"It has a smaller bed."

"I prefer less empty space."

"Your call."

Elisabet stood and took Javert's bags into the little guest room. She guessed that her cousin would be sleeping in her old room with her child; Elisabet remembered where the room was, but she had entered it maybe three times in her life. She placed her hand on the doorknob and thought for a moment before letting her hand fall back to her side limply- the girl within her shuddered at the memory of the squabbles she had with the girls she was raised with whenever one entered another's room unannounced.

"You're not hating this, are you?" Elisabet suddenly asked when they were in the hallway.

Javert looked at her, slightly confused. "No, why?"

"I just… I know you don't like getting thrown into situations that you're not familiar with. I don't want you to be on edge all weekend."

"I am not. I do feel slightly out of place, but I have handled worse situations than a country outing."

"And you don't mind being with my family?"

"If they do not mind me."

"Of course they don't! Thanks again."

"You have said that three times. I do not need to be thanked, there was very little effort on my part."

She sighed, her gratitude for Javert's presence in her life inexpressible. "Monsieur Inspector, I do believe that you might be perfect."

By the time they were settled, it was close to three. Elisabet led Javert downstairs where her aunt- a woman around her uncle's age who had graying hair tied up in a bun, a stout frame, and spectacles on the bridge of her tiny nose- was waiting to receive them. She first gave Elisabet a rib-cracking hug and two big, wet kisses on each cheek and then shook Javert's hand warmly when he was introduced. His face was one of sheer politeness, but Elisabet saw in the way he stood with his shoulders squared that Javert still felt out of place.

"Would you like to see the house, Monsieur?" her aunt asked.

Uncle, who was standing by the unlit fireplace, spoke up. "Splendid idea. Agathe, dear, give Monsieur Javert a tour of the house and grounds to make him feel welcome. Lilybet, let's you and I take a stroll through the pasture and catch up."

Elisabet bit her lip and looked from Javert to her aunt to her uncle. "I don't know if he'll-"

"-I will be fine. I would be honored to be given a tour, thank you, Madame." Javert gave a slight bow to Aunt Agathe and looked at Elisabet. He gave her the tiniest of nods and she cocked her head slightly, furrowing her brow. He briefly raised his eyebrows; Javert looked into her eyes with an openness that truly seemed to tell her that he would be alright.

"Well, alright." She said slowly.

Uncle offered his arm. "We'll return in time for dinner." Elisabet blinked in the sunshine and put her hand up to her forehead to shade her eyes. She looked at the calm, peaceful area in front of her and walked forward with her uncle, a warm feeling from happy childhood days swirling in her heart. "Nice silent language you two have, there." Her uncle's comment broke her reverie.

"Huh?"

"I saw your little communication. It tells me something."

"And what would that be?"

"It wouldn't mean anything to you if I told you. There's still so much that you're too young to understand."

"And so much that I'm being forced to face." She muttered.

"What is the climate in Paris?" he asked, suddenly serious.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't said much of it in your letters, but I can tell. Word gets back, even here. Riots. Demonstrations. Revolution."

Elisabet shook her head. "It gets worse every day."

"They say it's a group of school boys orchestrating the whole thing; you've said you've been alone in the shop for nearly a month without help."

"Whatever you're putting together, you're probably right. I'm staying out of the whole thing."

"Now that doesn't sound like you. Of course I am relieved to hear it, I don't want you in harm's way, but… I always thought that if something were to happen-"

"-I have too much to lose right now. On either side."

A beat of silence followed.

"Ah. Him." Her uncle finally said.

"Yes."

"He is high ranking, is he not?"

Elisabet gulped, but nevertheless her voice shook slightly as she recited, "In charge of all of the police forces in the city, and directing them to fight alongside the National Guard in any major disturbances."

"I see." He answered quietly. "And so he-"

"-I _really _don't want to talk about this right now, Uncle." Elisabet paused, recognizing the harsh tone she just used. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just… I came here to have at least one weekend of happiness. I wanted us both to just have a peaceful weekend away from that nightmare. I want him to see that there's more to life than police work. I don't want to change him, Uncle, I really don't. I just want to show him that there's more. That he doesn't _have _to do this. That his life is not dictated by the law."

More quiet between them. They walked along, the only sound the dust shuffling beneath their feet on the dirt road and the mooing of cows in the distance. Elisabet tightened her grip around her uncle's arm.

"You really love him." He spoke up.

"I really do." Elisabet muttered.

"Does he love you in return?"

"Yes… I think… well, see, it's complicated."

"Has he said that he loves you?"

She shuddered at the memory of Javert lying, nearly immobilized on her carpet. "I mean, kind of? He was talking about him and I and he said love. He alluded to it, at least. I know he loves me, I feel it. He's been alone all his life, he's never had family to go on outings with or anything, and I know he wouldn't have gone if he didn't care. He's done so much for me, Uncle. He's done everything."

"So why are you not… together?"

"We are."

"You know what I meant. You know I don't care who you choose to love, but I'd have more peace of mind if you did it the traditional way."

"Oh, I get it. He says he's not the courting type."

"Engagement?"

Elisabet hesitated. "It's weird. He's never made any notion of it but he's very staunch about public decency. There are certain things he won't do, even walk affectionately together in public, and the reason he always gives is 'we are not engaged, it would not look proper'".

He stopped walking and stood in front of her, blocking her path. "So why do you put up with it?"

"Pardon?"

"The Lilybet I know doesn't let other people tell her what is and isn't proper. I know the rambunctious girl that would never let anyone screw her over. If he does not want to be with you the official way and does not give a legitimate reason, then you are wasting your time."

"I know he has a reason, Uncle." Elisabet said firmly, but silently thinking her uncle might be right. When he said the words, they made perfect sense, and if Elisabet was giving advice to a friend in the same position, she would say the same exact words. But he was her Javert and he loved her. Even if he didn't, even if he spat in her face, she would not stop herself from caring.

They continued walking through the pastures, catching up on her uncle's life and learning all about this nephew of hers.

* * *

Javert stood in the drawing room of the house, having just finished the tour. Lilybet's aunt had a very kind, motherly disposition and if she had any reservations about Javert, she did not show them. He did still feel out of place, but at the same time he felt a certain gratitude that Lilybet was so happy to have him in her childhood home and towards her aunt and uncle for being so hospitable. He had to try hard to keep his mind off of his work; what was going on in Paris? Were there any uprisings while he was gone? Surely not… yet on the other hand, one could never be too careful. It made him nervous that he was so far from Paris, so far from being able to hear the voice of the law beckoning him.

Although he knew it hurt her, Javert could not help but be glad that those schoolboys no longer hung around Lilybet's shop. He knew that if he were to keep her safe, he had to keep her away from those who insisted on creating the commotion in the first place. If they kept themselves away, well, all the better.

"Mamie!" A door creaked downstairs and a child's voice accompanied by rapid little footsteps drifted up from below.

Lilybet's aunt clapped her hands together happily. "Oh, that'll be my daughter and her son. Come, Monsieur Javert, I will introduce you. I'll check on the roast as well, Lilybet and her uncle should be back soon." It briefly registered with Javert how odd it was that he was being called 'Monsieur' and not 'Inspector'. Should he be offended? It had never happened before, so he did not know.

He followed Lilybet's aunt downstairs and laid eyes upon a woman who looked to be around Lilybet's age, with dark brown hair and a long, thin neck that looked as though someone took her head and stretched it. She was tall and thin, with an almost comical habit of pursing her lips. He recognized why Lilybet called her a goose. With her was a small boy with a mop of the same dark brown hair, but Javert noticed that he had the same large blue gray eyes as Lilybet.

"Oh, hello." The woman said to Javert with a polite smile. "Are you a friend of my-"

"-cousin's." Madame Herriot finished. "Your cousin Lilybet brought a friend with her for the weekend. This is Monsieur Inspector Javert." Javert nodded politely and kissed her extended hand, very aware of what she almost said.

A tugging at his pant leg made him look down. It was the child, looking up at him wide-eyed.

"Are you an inspector of police?" he asked.

Javert hesitated; the only time he dealt with small children was with the insufferable urchins in the street, and then it was for punishment. He was accustomed to children like this fearing him.

"Erm, yes." Javert said, the child still clutching him.

"Where?"

"In Paris."

The child's mouth opened wide and he gasped in an exaggerated sort of way. "Do you put lots of bad people in jail there?"

"That is my job, yes."

"Are there a lot? Do you fight them? Are they afraid of you? How many are there? A hundred? A thousand?"

"Zacharie, leave the man alone, he can't possibly answer all those questions" his mother scolded, pulling him back. "I apologize, Monsieur, he has never been to a city before and he's never met an officer. He gets his head filled with these stories-"

"-it is quite alright. I do not mind." Javert returned. He looked down at the child, still staring at him. He bent down so that he was of eye level with the child and rested his hands on his knees. "As for your questions, lad: yes, sometimes, I should think so, many, not that many, certainly not that many."

The boy laughed, revealing gaps where teeth looked to have fallen out. His eyes sparkled with childhood innocence, reminding Javert of the eyes of an idealistic young girl who also liked to ask him questions.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Javert looked down a moment before answering. "…I have overseen the execution of criminals, yes."

"Is it fun being a police officer?"

"It is a difficult road, but a rewarding one."

"They give you rewards?!"

"Knowing that you keep innocent civilians safe from harm every day is its own reward."

"I'd rather get medals."

"Well, you can get those as well."

Suddenly, the boy clapped his hands together and bounced up and down with barely-contained excitement. "Do you have any stories of fighting bad guys?!"

"I might be able to think of a few."

"Come sit, everyone! Dinner is ready!" Lilybet's aunt called. The boy looked at him hopefully.

"After dinner." Javert promised. After the child happily ran off, Javert grunted as he stood up, his knees creaking a little.

He turned and noticed Lilybet, leaning against the doorframe, a peculiar little smile on her face.

"I apologize, I did not see you come in."

She shook her head lightly, still smiling. "That's okay. You were good with him."

Javert coughed awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards the door.

For dinner, Lilybet's aunt made a large roast, accompanied by baked carrots and turnips. Javert sat in his chair and took small, even bites. Outside of his house, this was the second ever time he had sat down to a real, home cooked dinner. Lilybet sat next to her nephew, genuinely making conversation with the child. He watched as she was turned to him, nodding enthusiastically as the lad told a story. If she was not three times his size, Javert would think they were equals.

The rest of the meal was passed in light conversation, Javert himself saying very little. He instead observed the casual but loving atmosphere, almost finding himself wishing that he could fully experience it, have it play a role in his life.

_This is not the life you were meant for_, a voice hissed in his ear, _the life you were meant for is waiting for you in Paris, in your government-issued house, in the streets of Saint Michel… upstairs, folded away in your bag_.

He pushed it to the back of his mind where it kept incessantly going. Instead, he focused on Lilybet- the reason he had agreed to go in the first place was to make her happy, and it felt good that he was, in some small way, responsible for her smile. He watched her speak to her family and could not help but notice how full her plate was; she had not been eating much these past few weeks and she had started to thin out, making Javert worry about her further. Now, however, it seemed her normally generous appetite was returning and it made at least a small part of him relax. She was not a bird, she did not need to act or eat like one. Still, he knew, this rebellion business was hitting her harder than she would let on even to him. But what did she know? What was she keeping, and was it important information that should be told to the law? Javert knew that he had both an emotional and professional duty to find out.

He himself had been working harder, longer hours at the Palais de Justice. He had more frequent meetings with his superiors, more paperwork, more patrols. It would begin to take a toll on him soon, Javert could tell- but he could never tell Lilybet. He did not need to give her more stress.

After dinner, Lilybet's uncle had everyone move into the main room for coffee. Javert took a seat in a small armchair by the mantle. No sooner had he sat down than the child approached him again.

"Story?" he asked. In truth, Javert was taking a liking to the boy. It was strange to be looked up to by a small child, strange but… nice. In any case, it gave him a way to be useful.

"If you would like one." Javert answered. The boy nodded and promptly began climbing onto Javert's lap until he sat on his knee. Well… this was unexpected. He sat for a moment, stunned, before he put his hands gently under the boy's armpits and adjusted him so that he was sitting more stably. How light he was, how fragile; it both frightened Javert and filled him with a sort of protectiveness. He told the boy one of the many stories he had on his experiences with the Patron-Minette. When he asked for another, he told him the story of Valjean. After pausing a moment before the end, Javert ended the story telling him that Valjean jumped into the waters and drowned.

"Did you know that I first met Inspector Javert when he saved me from a bad man?" Lilybet walked over just as Javert's memory got to the part when she found him stumbling through the street, bloody and beaten.

She sat down in the chair next to him and lifted the boy onto her lap. He looked eagerly from Lilybet to Javert.

"Really?" he asked.

Lilybet held him close and smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "Really. I was walking home in the middle of the night and suddenly a man came up and attacked me! I was so frightened, but then the Inspector came galloping out of the darkness on his horse and arrested the bad man and took me home, safe and sound."

"Could I be a police Inspector one day?" the child turned enthusiastically to Javert.

"Well… if you work hard then maybe you can be."

"Do you have muscles?" Lilybet asked the boy. "Show me! Oh, look at you! You'd make a fine officer, Zacharie." As they laughed together, Javert turned his head a little and watched, feeling the same peculiar smile that Lilybet wore coming onto his face. She would make a good mother, he thought briefly.

"Zacharie, come, time to go home." His mother called.

"I thought you two were staying?" Lilybet asked, confused.

"Oh no no, we live just down the road. I heard you were coming and we wanted to pay a visit."

Javert bowed and kissed her hand and Lilybet hugged her.

"Goodnight Aunt Lilybet, Goodnight Uncle Inspector!" The boy waved just before they were out the door.

Javert saw out of the corner of his eye how Lilybet turned red, looked to him, then looked down. He himself had only just registered what they boy had said.

Well, he was a child. Naturally he would not know any better.

"He um… he's only five, so… I… you know, kids." She shrugged.

"Yes." Was all Javert could respond. There was a warm feeling within him, the child's words resounding in his head. It was a feeling of… of almost having family again.

No, his common sense told him, you don't. A child called him uncle by mistake.

"He called me 'Aunt'" Lilybet said, more to herself. She smiled, placing a hand on her cheek.

The rest of the night passed quietly, with Lilybet's aunt retiring to bed after cleaning up and her uncle asking Javert of the affairs of government, politics, and etcetera. After a time, he noticed that Lilybet herself had not spoken in a long while. He turned to look at her- she was curled up in her seat, her head craned back, her mouth wide open and her eyes shut. Javert nudged her and she started, looking around groggily.

"Wha-?"

"You should go to sleep."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no. I have to stay up… I can stay up… I'm fine, don't want to… don't want to leave my guest.."

"Nonsense," her uncle piped up, "you're both my guests. Go upstairs and go to bed, let the host entertain his guest."

"But-"

"-bed." He finished firmly. Despite the fact that she was now an adult, Lilybet obeyed her uncle without a word. Out of habit, Javert stood as she left, watching her go. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it before stumbling up the stairs.

He sat down again.

A 'thunk' came from somewhere upstairs, followed by angry muttering. Footsteps dragged a bit more before a door shut.

Her uncle snorted and nodded his head. Javert sat quietly, shifting in his seat. Was he supposed to say something?

"How old are you?" Her uncle suddenly asked.

"Forty-seven."

"You are ten years younger than me."

"I-"

"-and twenty-two years older than her."

"…Twenty-one and a half, yes."

"Why are you unmarried?"

Javert was caught off-guard, opening his mouth but no words coming to his mind. "I… did not see it fit for me to take a wife."

"Do not or did not?"

"Well, do not. But I did not want to either, until… until Mademoiselle Barbier."

"So why don't you?"

"Excuse me?" The man was just as frank as his niece was.

"Just curious. She is more a daughter than a niece to me, Javert, you must understand I have my cautions."

"I understand, Monsieur."

Then they were quiet for a time, Javert lost and unable to find words.

"She cares a great deal for you, you know." The man said quietly.

"I know." Javert responded.

"And what does that mean to you?"

He looked Lilybet's uncle in the eye this time and spoke firmly.

"Everything."

At that moment, Javert knew it definitely: the law was his life, but this idealistic girl had his heart.

Her uncle looked Javert right back in the eyes, neither one moving or blinking. Finally, he nodded to him and looked away, taking a few puffs of his pipe.

"She's a smart girl, Lilybet. Smart and harder to please than Marie Antoinette- judging by how she acts around you, I'd say she's very pleased. I trust her judgment and any man who can handle her-"

"With all due respect, Monsieur, it is not my wish to handle her, it is my wish to keep her safe and happy."

He gave the smile that so looked like Lilybet's. "You're a good man, Javert. She told me you didn't think so, but she saw it in you. I see it as well." He looked at the clock on the wall. "It's getting late, we wake up early in this house. I expect she'll want to take you to the stream that's a mile down the road tomorrow, a beautiful area. Goodnight."

Javert shook the man's hand and walked upstairs. For the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to be interrogated. This man trusted Javert with his niece's happiness. Javert wondered, if he knew of his background, childhood, and deep bind to the law, if he would still feel the same way.

Once on the second floor, Javert had to stop for a moment to remember which room was given to him. He saw two doors that he knew were either his or Lilybet's, and so decided to take a chance at the nearest one. He felt for the gas lamp in the pitch blackness. When he found the switch, he flipped it and the room was bathed in a dim yellow light.

His eyes rested on the bed and Javert knew immediately that this was the wrong room.

Lilybet was curled up in a ball on the edge of the bed closest to the door, her hands crumpling the blanked up to her chin. Her eyes were wide open and she glanced up at Javert without any hint of surprise.

"Hi" she murmured.

"Pardon, I thought this was the guest room, excuse me-"

"-no," she interrupted, "stay. It's fine."

"I do not want to disturb your sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was about to but then I had a little panic attack and couldn't fall asleep anymore."

Javert took a few steps into the room. "Panic attack?" he asked, not without concern.

"I think too much before I go to bed. Sometimes it gets the better of me. I went to the bathroom and washed my face and it helped a bit. I'll probably fall asleep eventually."

"What happened? What was it about?" When she only shook her head in response, Javert took a few more steps into the room until he was looking down at her. How small she looked, balled up under the blanket. "No. Tell me."

Lilybet sighed shakily and her eyes beckoned Javert closer. He sat down on her bed and she moved so that she was now curled up against him. She looked at him, wide-eyed and honest.

"I'm so scared." She said.

He wrapped his arms around her over the blanket, a strange urge overtaking him: he wanted to pull her out of the blanket and just hold her, and keep her that way forever. That way, at least, he would know she was safe. "I understand."

She pulled away from him and put her hands on his chest. "Could you stay here with me for the night?"

Javert raised his eyebrows and stood up, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"No, that would be inappropriate."

"Please? You could sleep on the other side of the bed for all I care, I just don't want to be alone."

Never had Javert wanted to say yes to something more; however, they were guests in the home of a man who was as good as a father to her, and Javert had no doubt that he would not appreciate him sharing a bed with Lilybet, however innocent the purpose. Moreover, he knew how inappropriate it would be.

"I am sorry," he said, "but it would not be a good idea."

He tried not to look into her pleading eyes. Lilybet stood up and walked over to Javert. Wordlessly, she slipped her hand onto the back of his neck, weaving her fingers into his hair. She placed the other hand on his chest and kissed him. Javert stood, stunned at her more-forward-than-usual approach. He was even more stunned when she pressed her body against his, deepening the kiss. It felt different than normal… it was filled with a passion, a fire he was not quite ready for at half past midnight. The only other time he had been kissed like this in his life was years ago, as a young man in the army barracks: only this time, the woman was sober, nearly half his age, and seemed to have no intention to play him the fool. What was she trying to do? Did she want something from him?

With a start, Javert realized that in his thoughts, he forgot that Lilybet was still kissing him, moving her hand through his hair in an unfortunately pleasant way. He suddenly became painfully aware that she was in nothing but a thin nightdress.

He pushed her away and held her by the shoulders at arm's length. Javert cleared his throat, his forehead moist.

"Goodnight."

With that he turned and stiffly marched out of the room, closing the door behind him. Once in his own room, Javert sat on the bed and exhaled, wiping his brow while a part of him reminded him that if any other sane man were in his position, he would still be in that room and doing anything she wanted him to do.

Well, Javert reasoned, he was not other men. He was civilized. Yet that did not stop the phantom feeling of Lilybet still hovering around him.

He knew that to sleep would be to dream, and to dream would be to inadvertently wake _someone_ up like he did the night Lilybet stayed at his house. And so he spent a sleepless night staring at the ceiling in a bed a little bit too small for him, wondering if his overthinking was mixing with Lilybet's overthinking.

* * *

The following morning, Elisabet got up, having gotten no sleep but strangely not tired. The sun was just beginning to peek over the hills, and so she made her way downstairs where her aunt was beginning breakfast.

She wondered if Javert would remember last night or assume it was just a dream he had. Elisabet knew she couldn't be angry with him for leaving her alone in her room, she knew very well that he would have said no, and if she wasn't in the sad, scared state she was in, she wouldn't have even asked. But as he stood there in her room, Elisabet was overcome with feelings that hit her like a splash of cold water. He had held her when she told him she was frightened, held her without any prompting. He was handsome, good, and she wanted so very much to be his.

_No_.

Elisabet chided herself for fantasizing like a teenage girl. It got the better of her last night and he couldn't have run from her room any fast than if it had been set on fire. Just because she was in love with someone did not give her leave to act any less independent than she had for the past ten years. And yet it felt so nice to be cared for.

"Dear, will you go wake the rest of the house?" Aunt Agathe's voice shook her out of her reverie.

Thankful for a direct task, Elisabet nodded and walked upstairs to wake her uncle. Once that tougher than it should have been ordeal was finished, she walked down the hall to the guestroom.

She put her hand on Javert's doorknob and rested it there for a moment.

After a thought, she let it fall again to her side.

Elisabet stood there for a few seconds more before raising her hand again and knocking lightly on the door.

After less time than she had expected, the door opened and Javert stood in the crack in his white nightshirt. She looked him over once and immediately knew.

"You didn't sleep." She said matter-of-factly, voicing her thoughts.

"Neither did you." He responded in the exact same tone.

"Get changed and get downstairs, breakfast will be ready soon."

"And what afterwards?"

"Afterwards we go to church, and then after that I want to take you to a beautiful park I used to play at, then we come back for lunch, then around four the carriage will come to take us back to Paris."

"Give me five minutes."

"Alright." Elisabet leaned forward to try and kiss him. The way he pulled back right away told her that he remembered last night fairly well. She leaned her head against the doorframe and rested her chin on her fist. "Don't worry, Mother Superior, I'm not trying anything 'inappropriate'." She turned on her heel and walked away, very unsure of how to go from here.

The morning passed quickly; Zacharie was quite happy to see Javert again and even asked to sit next to him during services. What a sweet boy he was! And Javert was so good with him… how could he possibly think he was a bad man, even when he was staring into the eyes of an admiring child? Elisabet doubted he ever inspired this kind of a reaction out of children, and yet seeing his stern yet gentle behavior almost let her imagine him as a father with his own sun… did Javert want children, she wondered?

No, she supposed he didn't. After all, he didn't even want to get married. If only she could show him that he _was _worthy of a happy life. Javert deserved a family. Even if it wasn't with her, she decided. He deserved looking down into a little admiring face and hearing a little voice call him "papa". He deserved the unconditional, innocent, blind love that only a child could give. And she wanted more than anything to be a part of that family as well, to hold his child in her arms and watch that same child grow and raise it to have the proper family that neither she nor Javert ever got to have.

She had to show him. She had to show him somehow that he could let himself be happy.

…(later)

"We'll be back in a few hours!" she called to her aunt and uncle. It was another hot summer day, but with a cool breeze ruffling her skirts every now and then. She turned to Javert, "It's just a ten or fifteen minute walk down the road, you'll know it when you see it. There's a stream with people and trees."

"Your uncle mentioned such a place."

"Did he? Good." They walked on quietly for a few minutes, walking a few feet apart as if the awkwardness had manifested itself into a person and walked between them. Elisabet inhaled and steeled herself against it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"I'm alright. Just… still a little-"

"-scared?"

"Yeah."

"You do not have to be. I will do anything I can to keep you out of harm's way."

It's not me I'm worried about, she thought miserably. However, now was not the time. It was supposed to be a happy weekend and talks like this never ended happy.

Besides, judging by the laughter and talking she heard, Elisabet judged that they were nearing the park. She took Javert by the arm and steered him up the green hill. Once on top, they looked over the little park: there was a dirt path separating the green from the stream bank, straddled on either side by benches. There were a few trees in the area as well, their shade being put to good use. It was like a scene out of a painting.

"Well, what do you think?" Elisabet smiled, putting all other thoughts out of her mind.

Javert surveyed the scene calmly, emitting no emotion. "It is very quaint."

She pulled him by the arm again down the hill and they walked slowly down the dirt path, Elisabet's head swirling with pleasant memories and feelings.

Suddenly, an idea came to her head. She turned brightly to Javert, "Want to go to the stream?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "The stream is right here."

"No, I mean let's walk through it, there are such pretty rocks there sometimes."

"There are rocks here as well."

"Come on, please?" Elisabet tried to widen her eyes, putting both hands meekly on his arm.

After a moment, he relented. "Very well" he said uncertainly.

She hopped up off of the bench and walked down to the little bank. Elisabet slipped off her shoes and stuck a tentative toe into the water. It was cool and clear, and when she set her whole foot in, the water went up to her ankle. She listened to the babbling of the water and watched it. She removed her foot, then slowly dipped it back in. The water never stopped for a moment; even when her foot came in as a barrier, it merely switched course and adapted to survive, nothing in the world able to stop the natural flow. It did what it had to do.

"This water has life figured out." She mumbled.

"Yes, it must have been quite difficult." Javert quipped. Elisabet looked up and grinned at him, then turned back down.

"Look!" She said, reaching a hand down. She slowly put her other foot into the stream and perched on a large rock. After some feeling, she fished out a smooth, brown stone with little tan stripes. Javert stood at the edge of the bank and looked down. Elisabet handed him the rock and he turned it over in his hand several times. "Help me find more."

Surprisingly, Javert obliged without a word. He walked along the edge, looking down intently.

"The water won't bite you, you know." She commented.

"I prefer to be dry, thank you."

"Suit yourself, but you won't be finding much that way." She turned away and began searching, waddling through the stream. She picked up a few rocks and even a small snail shell; when the bottom of her dress began getting wet, she decided that she had gotten enough.

Elisabet put her hands on her knees and stood. The rocks she was on shook violently and she found herself desperately trying to regain her balance. Suddenly, her eyes spied a large rock not two feet away. It looked sturdy enough, yes… she crouched once more and jumped for it.

She was going to reach it!

No she wasn't.

"Javert!" she squeaked before her face landed in the water.

No sooner had the cold stream splashed into her mouth than she found herself being scooped up quickly, sputtering.

She brushed the wet brown locks out of her face and looked into her savior's face sheepishly.

"Just once. Could you not get yourself into these situations. Just. Once."Javert said between teeth that were clenched in annoyance.

"Lifting me bridal style? Isn't that a bit cliché?"

"If you say so." He answered nonchalantly before letting the arm holding her legs fall.

Elisabet, who was not quite ready for the landing, slipped on the rocks again and would have taken another fall if he had not swept her back up. She noted how strong he was, putting her hands on his chest.

For a moment, she had forgotten where they were.

The only thing that existed was them- Javert, holding up a half-damp Elisabet as they stared at each other, neither saying a single thing. She felt an energy course through her that was not unlike the one she had felt last night when she kissed him. He held on tightly, staring hard into her eyes.

"Y-your feet are wet." She stuttered, not breaking eye contact.

"Yes." He responded in a numb manner that told her that his mind wasn't far from hers.

And then, all of a sudden, the moment was gone as quickly as it had come. He blinked at her, his pale green eyes seeming to go through a series of emotions. Javert stared straight ahead and walked out of the water. He carried her all the way to the nearest bench, where he deposited her carefully and stood over her, casting some much-needed shade.

"I'm wet." She complained, feeling quite uncomfortable with the right half of her body damp and the left half dry- with the exception of her face, which was all wet.

"You did it to yourself." He answered.

"Yeah, I know."

"What were you trying to do?"

"_I was trying to do a pirouette on the rock_." She said quite loudly.

Javert studied her as if she were a tone-deaf opera singer.

"Why would you do that?"

"I was kidding."

"It was a bad joke."

"Thank you." She spat. After a moment, Elisabet snapped her fingers in annoyance when she realized her hands were empty. "Ah! I lost the little treasures I got. I guess we'll be empty handed then."

It was then that Javert deposited a handful of shells and rocks into her lap.

Elisabet sat back in surprise- he had found four little snail shells when she in her life had only ever succeeded in finding maybe three. "How'd you find these?"

"In my life, having sharp eyes has often been the difference between life and death."

"You're just a bundle of cheer and sunshine, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Nothing." After looking around a bit, Elisabet spotted a patch of unoccupied shade under a tree. "Can we go sit there?" she asked, pointing to it.

Javert nodded in response and began walking over. After Elisabet followed him and got settled, she leaned against the trunk of the tree and he sat a good few inches away, his back straight.

"You can sit closer to me, you know." She said pointedly.

"It would look improper."

She sighed despondently and looked around at the other park-goers. Unfortunately, this summery-spring weather was ideal for young lovers to enjoy each other in the cheerful sunlight. Under another tree not far away from them, Elisabet watched a man sit with his arm around a visibly pregnant woman. They were both rolling with laughter as a toddler bounced and danced in front of them. Across the little stream, a woman sat reading aloud on a checkered blanket to a man, who was resting with his head in her lap. It was Sunday- of all the days of the week, heaven chose _this one_to push her buttons?

"What is wrong?" Javert's voice broke into her thoughts. She almost got annoyed at him for asking before she remembered that he wasn't a mind-reader.

"Nothing."

But he was smarter than that, and he knew her better than that. "And 'nothing' would roughly translate into-?"

"Into the fact that we have to act like good acquaintances at best all the damn time because anything else would be 'improper'! That if I want to hold your hand or show any sort of care- or God forbid _kiss_ you, we have to be locked away in my flat because you're scared of how it would look if I ever went to your house! This secrecy may be all fine and dandy for you but I… it just… it makes me feel… it makes me feel like you're ashamed of me!"

"I am not." Javert protested firmly. Elisabet, however, was on her long-held tangent and could not be stopped.

"Then why can't we walk in the street with anything more than you lightly offering your arm? You get mad whenever I visit your office! I understand the not talking when you pass on patrol, but for Godssakes you didn't even let me visit you at the hospital! Do you know how much that hurt? I was worried sick day in and day out and it took me being upset on a bench for me to know you were okay! Do you know what it feels like to be so worried about somebody, to care about them so much, but not be allowed to show that care because they're ashamed of you?"

"I am _not _ashamed of you." Javert cut across, visibly annoyed now. "Do you honestly think I do not care? I act this way because I do care. What will people say to you if they see you publicly with me? People either fear me as a cold-hearted monster or respect me as an obedient dog. Neither opinion would rub off well onto you. You are both much younger and on a higher social level than I am. Society does not look kindly upon those who break the law, nor those who defend it. What would these higher circles- your cousin's circles- say if they knew about us? If they had confirmation? I am a bastard social-climber to them. And not to mention those schoolboys. You know as well as I do that they are plotting, there is no sense denying it. Your shop is right in the heart of their area. Do you know the danger you would be in if they knew we were together?"

"They know, Javert! Do you remember that riot? Do you remember what I did? How could they not know after that? They know and I'm still safe. They'd never hurt me. As for everything else, if you think I give two shits about what any of them- what _anybody_ thinks- then you don't know anything about me. Do you see these couples here? All of them? I don't care for you any less than they care for each other. Listen to me." Elisabet sat up on her knees and grabbed his face in her hands.

"If I don't like something, I don't go along with it. Your age, your childhood, your position… it doesn't matter. How can I get that through to you? It doesn't matter. You've been more of a friend to me than anybody ever has and I feel closer to you than I've ever felt to anyone. Nobody understands me like you do and all I want is to spend the rest of my life trying to show you that your life is worth something. It's worth everything to me. You deserve more happiness and love than most people I know. I want to show you that I'm proud to be with you. I'd be proud to walk on your arm. Instead of gossiping that I'm your mistress people would know me as your betrothed- does that sound awkward? Oh, I don't care. I keep trying to tell you, I keep trying to show you, but all I ever get from you is 'we are not engaged'. If you're ashamed or don't want to be committed to me specifically, then tell me and you'll still be my dearest friend. Well, if you're not ashamed of me, then why? What's stopping you?"

"_I do not have the money_." He said quickly, shaking her hands off and looking immediately down. Elisabet stared and bit her lip, immediately feeling a pang of guilt. "Why do you think the government gives me a house and a maid and clothing? It is because my salary alone is not enough to support anyone but myself. Do you know the embarrassment of not making enough money to live without what the government bestows? I could not afford an engagement, let alone a wedding. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than an old inspector whose life is bound to the law."

Elisabet let her hands fall to her lap and looked at Javert. She scooted closer and stroked his cheek lightly so that he would look back up. She looked straight into his eyes and prayed with all her might that he would understand.

"Etienne Javert, You are a handsome, brave, good man and any woman would be proud to call herself yours. Sure, you may still think of me as naïve and idealistic, but not about this. I saw how you were with Zacharie. The boy looked up to you after only knowing you a day. You were so good with him. And I saw the look on your face, you were happy. You deserve that happiness. I don't care how much money you have. I have money. I have enough to support myself without work for at least the next twenty years. I don't need you to throw money away on a beautiful engagement or an excessive wedding. I don't want to change you or pull you from the law. I only want to show you that I'm here. You can lean on me and use me for happiness too, not just your work. Your life has more meaning than a 'guard dog' or whatever. You're everything to me. I don't need ceremonies or rings or jewelry. I just need to know if you feel the same way."

Javert's eyes searched her face compulsively. "You are aware of what you are saying?"

"Completely."

"And out of any other choice you could possibly have- younger men, richer men-"

"-are not you. Just as well, I know I'm still a nuisance. You could just as easily find someone prettier, more ladylike."

"No."

"Well, there you go. What do you say, my dear Inspector? Will you accept the stubborn, naïve, foolish girl who relentlessly pursued your friendship until you wore down and resigned yourself to it?"

Javert, who always would prefer to speak with his actions, placed a thick, calloused hand on her cheek and pressed his lips to hers for a brief, wonderful moment. True, it was nothing more than a peck, but the action and the meaning behind it made girlish tears well in her eyes.

Upon seeing the streaks that had begun to go down her cheeks, Javert let his hand drop and moved back.

"Did I hurt you somehow? What did I do wrong?" he asked.

How could he ever imagine he wasn't good enough for anyone?

Elisabet laughed gently, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Nothing, nothing at all. I'm just being stupid. They're happy tears." She sniffled and began to think rationally, trying to put any uncertainties he had to rest. "Don't worry, I'm not going to gossip all over everywhere about us. I'm not that stupid. It just… I don't know, I'm happy you feel this way. I'm happy you're not ashamed of me. That it doesn't need to be totally secret."

"I trust you."

At that moment, Paris and all of its troubles seemed to be on another world, all part of some bad dream. Javert gave a small, shy smile that seemed to reduce his age by nearly ten years. Elisabet grinned ear to ear. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. For now, they were in their own little world.

Elisabet felt her fantasy of a 'happily ever after' floating away in the breeze. She didn't need a happily ever after, because with Javert, she was… happy. _They_ were happy. And that was the greatest thing in the world.


	36. Chapter 35

**_Author's Note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for your patience and the stream of positive feedback, it's really kept me going with this :) This chapter might be a bit jumpy/confusing with time jumps- just warning you! But otherwise, thank you so much for waiting, enjoy, let me know if you like it!_**

* * *

The rest of April flew by and May quickly followed suit.

In the carriage ride from the country, Javert was so wrapped up in thought that he could barely speak- and yet he knew that he and Lilybet had to discuss their conversation at the park further. So he was really engaged to be married. He was no longer a bachelor (not that he ever found use in calling himself that anyway, seeing as he never really searched for any partner).

Every time he thought about it since then, Javert would get his old insecurities- why would she want him? He was low class, he was poorer than her, old, solemn, and dark. What would people say about her?

But then he would turn and Lilybet her on his arm, and he would remember how she had given him a birthday present on New Years', ran her hands through his hair at the hospital, how she kissed him at her uncle's home, how she pressed her forehead against his while telling him that she did not care in the slightest about anything but their feelings for each other… and how she risked her life to save his. His insecurity turned to a certain pride: if men his age were seen with women like her, it was usually arranged without the input of the women. However, here he was, walking through the streets during his off-duty hours with a smart, beautiful young woman who actually seemed happy to be there.

Though he did not have the money for a large ceremony, Javert knew that he did have to have some decency. And so, the Tuesday after they had gotten back, he bought Lilybet a simple choker necklace of rolled gold with a small oval coral set in the center. At first, she tried to refuse it.

"How much did this cost?" she had asked, turning the necklace over in her hands.

"That is none of your concern."

"What's it for?"

"A man must honor his engagements. Or rather, engagement."

To his surprise, her face fell and she shook her head at him. "No, uh-uh, nope. I told you I didn't need anything and I didn't get you anything but you got me something and now I feel like an ass."

"I did not ask for anything."

"Nor did I."

"I want to provide for you."

"You don't need to provide me with gifts."

"Do you not like it? I can get something more."

"No, it's gorgeous, but I don't need it."

"It would mean very much if you kept it."

She chewed her lip for a bit before sighing resignedly. "Fine then. But no more gifts. If you want to spend money on me you can take me out on a nice dinner. Can you clasp it on my neck for me?"

Lilybet turned around and held her hair up. Javert hesitated and held the cold metal in between his palms for a few seconds to warm it a little bit before carefully placing it around her neck. He fiddled with the clasp before removing it again, thinking.

Javert knew that women were notorious for putting on a false smile even if they did not like something. Did she really like the necklace, or was she just being kind? Javert sincerely hoped it was the former; walking into the small, dank jewelry shop was humiliating enough. He had given the saleswoman his price and picked the thing he hoped that Lilybet would find the prettiest and quickly hurried out. He was a man who could be called upon to recall countless passages of war histories or the Bible. He could remember the dates of all of the battles he had fought under Napoleon's reign.

Yet when it came to feminine things such as clothing or jewelry, he was lacking in every sense of the word.

"Are you sure you like it?" he asked.

Lilybet turned to face him with a sardonic expression. "No, I hate it and want you to throw it out. That's why I'm asking you to put it around my neck where everyone can see."

Javert rolled his eyes and bade her turn around again. At least he got that right. His large, strong hands were not equipped to work with such small pieces of metal, so it took some fiddling before he finally got it clasped. Lilybet let her hair down and walked over to the mirror and smiled as she put her fingers on the choker. She ran her thumb over the coral and made a content "hm" sound. Javert stood where he was, hands behind his back, watching.

Finally she turned around to him. "I love it. Really, I do." And so, even though it did not always match her clothes, Lilybet had worn it every day since then.

Luckily, in the two months since their decision, Javert's reputation and Lilybet's safety had not been compromised, at least not nearly as much as he thought they would be. He was still the cold, impassive inspector that people parted the streets for- however, "perpetual bachelor" had been taken off of his description.

The people who knew him- knew him as much as anybody except Lilybet could, anyway- had remarked on a change that had overcome him. "The first warm sunshine after a long, harsh winter", Monsieur Vipond had said. The officers he was charged with barely hid their curiosity: even though it had already been two months, every time Javert found Lilybet hovering around the station waiting for him to end his shift, he could see them out of the corners of his eyes staring at them, wide-eyed, as if he had just greeted an ape. What made this amusing was that he noticed the way Lilybet's eyes flickered when she would catch sight of their faces and immediately grin and become tender and affectionate, touching Javert's arm and putting her hand on his face, occasionally even planting kisses on his cheek.

"She's actually _pretty-_"

"-has to be at least fifteen years younger than him!"

These snippets he caught were the reason he did not always stop her from putting on her little show. It was a way of disproving them, showing both them and himself that she was there purely because she loved him.

Well, that, and the way she looked at him when she would turn and see him emerging from the large stone building. The expression did not even last half a second, yet nobody had ever looked at Javert that way. It was always the same look of surprised delight, an excitement that one would normally reserve for someone they hadn't seen in a long while. He never addressed it and he never commented on it, but it was his favorite part of the day.

But still, the demons plagued him.

_This will not last forever_, they said to him.

_You do not deserve this._

_The law is your life, not her. The time will come when you must choose and you will break her heart._

He knew it, too. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Javert knew these demonstrations and riots would cumulate into an explosion. He only hoped and prayed that she would have the sense to stay far away from the dangers, that she would not throw herself into the mix. He wished things could be different. He wished he was younger, had a better background, and wasn't bound by these shadows.

Javert knew that if he and Lilybet had met in another place, in another time, if fate was on his side, he would not have hesitated to court and take her as his wife, to start a family with her and give her everything she ever wanted and deserved.

But they were in Paris, twenty-one years apart, and the air stank of rebellion.

* * *

The first day of June was humid; the moment Elisabet got up that morning, she could feel the moisture in the air sticking to her skin and mingling unpleasantly with sweat.

Sighing, she stood, stretched, silenced her alarm clock, and shuffled sleepily to the washbasin. After filling it with cool water, she wiped the salt from her body- it really was no use though, the air caused it to return not half an hour later.

When the clock struck ten, she walked downstairs to the shop and began her day, filling orders places last night and this morning. Afterwards, she took the broom outside and began sweeping in the awful heat, very aware that her hair, despite being up in a bun, was frizzing and expanding.

The sound of hoofbeats on the cobblestone street made Elisabet smile to herself. She raised two fingers and touched the coral oval set into her golden choker. Her fiancé, the Inspector.

The sound got close and she raised her head in time to see Javert, sitting atop his horse, back straight, chest puffed. He looked down at the ground and scanned from side to side with cool, inexpressive pale green eyes. When they met hers, he gave the briefest of nods, which Elisabet returned with a small smile. How was he not dying of heat in that black uniform? She squinted her eyes and noticed that he did indeed have beads of sweat forming on his brow- not even he could escape the uncomfortably moist air.

Still, she watched him ride by, her heart skipping a beat. The officers with him shot her curious looks and she stared right back, raising her eyebrows, daring them to say something to her. These looks were making her feel like a sideshow act. What was _their_ problem? Yes, it was possible for Javert to have human interaction. But what business did they have? She was only sweeping outside her shop.

Elisabet smiled to herself, thinking about the first time she had gone to Javert's office to wait for him to finish work. She had walked into the large, imposing building and looked around like a small child at a fair. It was a very fitting place for Javert to work, she thought.

She made her way over to a front desk that was in front of a row of office doors, probably belonging to other officials. The man sitting at it had salt-and-pepper hair and a pair of pince-nez sitting on the tip of his nose while he was reading over and filling out some kind of a ledger.

She cleared her throat. Nothing.

"Excuse me? Monsieur?" she had asked, quietly but insistently.

He looked up and blinked politely. "How can I help you?"

"I was just wondering when Inspector Javert would be coming out?"

He blinked his watery eyes a few more times, clearly bored. "An audience with the Inspecteur Général requires prior scheduling, Mademoiselle." He returned to his books nonchalantly.

"Oh, no no, I'm not looking for an audience, I just came to see him after work."

That got his attention. "What is your relation to Inspector Javert?" he asked, businesslike.

Elisabet opened her mouth and hesitated. It still felt strange on her tongue, but it was true, wasn't it? She leaned a little bit closer and said, in a slightly softer tone, "I am his fiancé."

"Ah." Was all he said.

A beat of silence followed in which he simply looked at her blankly.

Elisabet finally broke it by clearing her throat. "Erm, so, what time does he usually come out?"

He quickly returned to the ledger and ran his finger down the page. "Today… in about fifteen minutes."

"Thank you." She nodded and walked back out of the building, very aware of his eyes on her. It only made her raise her chin that much higher.

Yet when Javert finally emerged, all awkwardness flew out of her mind. He came out with measured step, off-duty but still surveying the area with those pale green eyes that never rested.

When they _did_ rest on her, they widened for the briefest of moments. Though he didn't smile with his mouth, his eyes brightened, a twinkle coming and going as briefly as a shooting star.

As quickly as it came, the look vanished and he was stoic once more, walking over to Elisabet.

"Hey" she smiled simply.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle." Javert bowed and kissed her hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came by to see you after work."

"Did you go inside?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"I asked the guy at the desk when you got out and he asked me what my relation to you was and I told him that I was your fiancé." She bit her lip and looked up at him, watching for his reaction.

Javert looked down and nodded. "That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"It is not protocol to ask visitors their relations to officers."

Elisabet thought about what Javert said for a moment. Suddenly, it hit her.

"Aw, hell!" She slapped her forehead and spun around.

What. An. Idiot. Elisabet would have laughed if her pride allowed for it. But it didn't, and she just made herself look foolish in front of Javert.

And then, a sound she didn't know if she would ever hear floated like music in her ears.

It was Javert, and he was laughing.

She looked up to the source of the sound. It was quiet and low, yet it was indeed a laugh, not merely a chuckle. He was smiling, shaking his head slightly at her… and he was laughing! It sounded like the way Javert would laugh, she decided. The sound was slow and sounded deep and gravelly, much like his voice. It was one of the loveliest sounds she ever heard, and soon Elisabet began to laugh as well.

"It's not funny!" she protested playfully, pushing his chest. Much too soon for her, Javert realized that he was indeed still very much in public. He cleared his throat and wiped the smile off of his face, straightening his uniform. He looked down at Elisabet, his eyes emotionless once more, but she thought she saw a bit of the twinkle they had moments ago. "You're not angry that I told him?" she asked.

"No, I just hope they will stay in line."

"I only told one person!"

"And at least six stared at me on my way out as if I had ten heads"

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Let them stare. If I cared a wink about trivial gossip, I would not be where I am today."

"Wow" Elisabet looked up at him admiringly. How was it possible that he could have such black-and-white views on some things, yet continue to surprise her with his insight on others? And men thought women were confusing, she thought. "You really are something."

"May I walk you to wherever you were going?"

"If you're okay with that." She smiled. Behind Javert, she noticed several uniformed heads poking out of the door. Well, if they wanted a show, she supposed she could give them a sneak peek. She put on her sweetest voice and tried to sound sincere. "Oh, here, you've got something on your cheek." Elisabet put her hand on his face and ran her thumb over the sandy-gray bristles. They peeked out a bit more.

For her finale, she stood on tip toe and kissed the opposite cheek.

Javert cocked his head and studied her for a moment, his eyebrows slightly raised. She smiled at him kindly, saying nothing.

"They are staring right now."

"Yep."

Just like that, Elisabet nodded and patted Javert's cheek, turning away from him.

"Show's over, boys!" she called to the men with a wave of her hand. She turned back to Javert and began walking. "Well, let's get going then."

The whole flashback played in her head until Elisabet realized that she had been sweeping the same spot in the same motions for ten minutes. She blinked her eyes and huffed, returning indoors. It was too humid for this outside.

The day crawled by in the sticky heat until Elisabet gratefully sighed when the clock chimed one. She would just go upstairs for lunch, she decided. Maybe she would stick her head in the ice box for a bit.

Just when she went up to the glass to turn the sign to 'closed', another face, framed by blonde curls, pressed itself up against the door and made her jump back.

Elisabet opened the door and Renee walked in, followed by a very pregnant Rachel, who was followed by a mousy girl who looked to be about twenty.

"You brought a pet" Elisabet nodded towards the girl, who looked at her with sudden, wide eyes. She curtseyed with a mumbled 'Mademoiselle', but nothing else.

Rachel explained, "Richard had me take on a handmaid to come with me whenever I leave the house, you know, just in case."

"Does pregnancy make you lose the use of your hands?"

"That was anything but original."

"Fair enough. When are you due?"

"In about a month."

"Jesus! And you're still walking around?"

"I haven't lost the use of my legs, dear. It's only a few extra pounds to carry around."

"So what's your name then, handmaid?" Elisabet asked the girl.

"Adelaide, Mademoiselle." The girl said, much too quietly.

"Pardon? You'll have to speak up or I'll just have to call you 'mouse'."

"I-I'm sorry" the girl amended quickly, still in hushed tones.

Rachel put her hand on the girl's arm. "Don't be intimidated, Adelaide, she's just a little rough around the edges, she doesn't mean any harm."

"Yes, Adelaide, I don't bite often." Elisabet said kindly to the girl. She turned her head and, for the first time, noticed how unusually quiet Renee was being, only staring at them sadly.

"What's the matter? What's happened?" Elisabet put her arm around her shorter friend, rubbing her shoulder. A million things went through her head at once and her heart sped up as she hoped that the cause of Renee's sadness wasn't what she suspected.

"Can we go upstairs? I wanted to talk to you both." Renee said quietly. Elisabet turned towards Rachel and shot her a questioning look, to which she only shrugged her shoulders. What could have possibly happened?

Once they were settled upstairs, Elisabet set out a place of cheese, bread, and fruit for them for lack of preparation time. She even made Adelaide take a seat and have some- handmaid or not, a guest was a guest.

They all sat around the little wooden table and Elisabet and Rachel turned towards Renee, taking her hands in theirs. The blonde took a shaky break, looking down at her lap.

"Father broke off my engagement." She forced out.

Elisabet swallowed dryly. "Why? Did he tell you why?"

"He saw Lesgles at one of those stupid demonstrations. He was on the platform with the schoolboys he hangs around with and they were screaming about change and 'down with the aristocracy'. Father said he doesn't want me to marry someone that could get killed or arrested at any moment."

"That's awful." Rachel said, squeezing her friend's hand consolingly. Renee nodded, clearly doing everything in her power to not cry.

"Don't hold back the tears, it'll only make you feel worse." Elisabet added gently. She stood up and hugged Renee's head to her chest when she let herself go, quietly crying into Elisabet's torso. "Shhh, shhh" Elisabet said soothingly, petting her hair. She and Rachel, who could not stand up so easily, exchanged a troubled look. It was a confirmation that this was not merely whisperings, not rumors and angry muttering. Their friend was sitting here, crying, one of the first affected by the coming rebellion.

Finally, Renee turned around and faced the table again and sniffled, clutching Elisabet's arm. "I-I tried to talk to him afterwards. I tried to find him but he told me he couldn't see me. He said he couldn't say anything else but we couldn't even be friends anymore. He said it was dangerous but once it was all over I would see, that it would be worth it." She turned her reddened eyes to Elisabet. "I asked him what he meant, he told me if I really wanted to know, I should ask you."

Elisabet sighed, her stomach churning. She felt lightheaded, guilty, as if her part in a crime had been discovered. She began, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "It's starting." Was all she said.

Rachel looked to her, stony faced. "So it's true? All of it?"

"All of it." The three of them turned towards Adelaide, her soft voice heard for the first time. She looked at them with large, pale, trembling eyes and they all knew she was right. The blonde returned to Elisabet's breast, crying once again.

"Are you sure?" Elisabet asked, already knowing the answer.

The girl nodded, "I know some of them as well. I do not know much, Mademoiselle, but I know it for certain."

"Those schoolboys… didn't they used to work for you?" Rachel asked quietly. "What happened? Do they still come by?"

Elisabet shook her head, holding back tears herself. But no, she was not the victim. Renee was the victim. Her boys were the victims. Javert was the victim. She was merely caught in the middle, her inability and cowardice only enabling the evil. Nobody close to her was safe, and she was a fool for thinking she could keep them otherwise.

Reading her thoughts like only a mother-to-be could, Rachel began again, Elisabet having to strain her ears to hear her over her conscience mocking her and Renee's crying.

"What of Inspector Javert?"

She clutched Renee harder reflexively. Her voice got harder as she tried to stop it from shaking. "In charge of commanding the police force… when the time comes."

Rachel's eyes widened at the realization of the meaning behind Elisabet's words, her lips parting. She clutched one of each of their hands in hers, unable to do more because of her baby bump.

The food might as well not have existed to any of them as they sat there, reality weighing down and threatening to crush them all.

The café, Elisabet thought, I have to go to the café. She would find Marius, Grantaire, Enjolras, even Gavroche… any of them. It was coming, they all knew it. But that didn't means that she wasn't going to fight to the very last second. She would prove that she could keep them safe. She needed to keep Javert safe. She was going to break the chain of trouble. She would not let them die, she would not watch as they drowned like Remi did.


	37. Chapter 36

**_Author's Note: Howdy! To everyone who's been reviewing and reading this story, I'd just like to extend a huge thank you. You guys have really kept me motivated to finish this and writing this story has really been fun. I'm not positive but I'm pretty sure there won't be more than five chapters left. Let me know if you like it, the writers' block started plaguing me again towards the end of this chapter but I really hope it's still okay. Thanks again and I really hope it's to your liking :)_**

**_ALSO to answer some past questions: I'm going to keep which Javert I was thinking a secret (unless you guessed already) because I think that's it's more fun to imagine whichever one you want :) And also, there was no 'engagement story' because that whole thing in the park basically was their engagement. Cause y'know, they're awkward with love and shit. Thanks for your continued reviews and patience! :)_**

* * *

"Log today's date please."

Monsieur Vipond's words had no effect on the young secretary, whose eyes were glazed over as he stared at the ceiling dreamily.

The older man reached over and rapped the boy sharply on the head. "Honestly, what's the use of a son that doesn't pay attention to his own father when he gets him a job?"

"Sorry, sir, sorry." The younger Vipond muttered, straightening himself and dipping the quill into a bottle of ink. "Erm… what's the date?"

"For Godssakes, boy."

Situations like this were the reason Javert disapproved of familial connections getting people places. Goodness only knows how many inept officers had been placed under his command because of some high-ranking father or uncle or another.

"The second of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and thirty-two." Javert supplanted.

"Ah, see? There's a man who pays attention." Vipond gestured towards Javert. "Now then, if we're all here let's just get through the attendance. Are you recording this, Max?"

"Yes, Fath- Monsieur Prefect."

"Good. Present and in attendance: Paris Prefect Vipond, Inspecteur Général Javert, Colonel-General Minard, Contrôleur General Tibodeau, and… General Lamarque is still ill?"

"Yes, I sent one of my servants to check in on him this morning." Minard interjected. "They didn't allow him in, but I was told that the cholera has begun to rapidly affect him. He won't last out the week." At this, the men around the mahogany desk grew silent for a brief moment, bowing their heads in response to the dark knowledge that even someone as high up as Jean Lamarque could succumb to the disease that had been plaguing the wretches in the gutters.

How fitting, Javert thought grimly, the man who fought so hard for the lower classes was now cut down to their level, dying of their sickness.

_Never forget that you could have ended down there if the law had not saved you,_ a voice hissed in his ear.

"Begin the log of today's meeting, then." Vipond said, folding his hands and assuming a businesslike pose. "Now then, Javert- how many arrests were made this week?"

"One hundred and ninety-seven, sir."

"And of those, how many were indicted?"

"One hundered and forty-nine, sir."

"Are the jails overcrowded?"

"My men are still making them fit."

"Good, good." Vipond moved on then, asking the other men questions pertaining to their stations and those under them. Once the basic questions were finished, these meetings usually ended. However, with the changing climate among the classes and the increase in riotous activity, they had much more to sort through.

"Gentlemen," Vipond started, his voice uncharacteristically grave, "I trust you all know why else we are here. Have any of you heard anymore news of these… rumors?"

Javert looked down at his lap. Part of him wished he had news to report- Lilybet was, or at least used to be, close to the boys that played a part in this: how large a part, he did not know. She was in the perfect position to spy on them for Javert, finding information on their meetings and reporting it to him. Yet the other part of him would admonish him- you should be ashamed, it said. No matter what, he would never, could never, take advantage of her in that way. He knew that it could put her in the very danger he was trying to keep her out of. On the whole, he was glad she had no contact with those boys. It still bothered her, he knew. He saw the distant look of agitation in her eyes every time she thought he wasn't looking, the dark circles under her eyes that had become a permanent part of her features.

No matter- when this nasty business was all over and they had disbanded this little uprising, Javert would see to it that Lilybet got all the stress-free time she deserved. She would return to being the happy, optimistic girl he knew.

_Unless you die instead and abandon her again_, the voice rasped.

His head snapped back up when he heard a real voice. Javert turned to Contrôleur General Tibodeau and watched the pale, thin man talk.

"Monsieur Prefect," he said, "I have struck a deal with one of the gang leaders down in Saint Michel- a Thenardier, of the Patron-Minette. He and his wife go to the meetings, get their information, and report it back to me in exchange for immunity for petty crimes."

At this, Javert stiffened. "Monsieur Contrôleur, I am afraid I must object to this arrangement. Sorting with criminals is in my duties, and I do not believe it to be a good idea to strike such deals with them- particularly someone with such a vast history as Thenardier. It is highly unwise."

"Monsieur Inspector, if it gets results then I don't see why it cannot continue." Tibodeau countered.

"How are we to know that this man is not lying to you? Monsieur Vipond, you must see that this is a very risky solution to a problem we do not even know how to approach."

After thinking a moment, Vipond opened his mouth. "No, Javert, for once I believe I must ask you to stand down. After all, we have no other way to get information, and iffy is better than none."

Tibodeau nodded avidly at Vipond's encouragement. "And if I should find out that he's lied about anything, I informed him that he would be subject to arrest and maximum penalty for obstructing justice."

"Well, there you have it," Vipond said, crossing his arms, "none of any of your men will arrest this Thenardier for any petty crimes so long as he is assisting us."

If Javert did not have professionalism and his job at the foremost of his priorities, he would have argued further. However, he knew when he was overruled and was forced to remain quiet. However, he assured himself, if he were to catch Thenardier in anything, he would find some way to indict him. Criminals should never be allowed to go free, no matter what 'good' deeds they were to do. They always had a goal, always wanted something. None of them would ever do anything without a deal.

Vipond continued, "Have you gotten anything so far, Tibodeau?"

"Yes, Monsieur Prefect. Thenardier had not been able to get admission to their top secret meetings, but he knows enough to know that they have a day set for their rebellion, they will announce it to the masses when it comes. He says they also know of Lamarque on his deathbed, and they are treating it significantly- whether it is a blow or encouragement, I cannot say."

"A blow, probably- everyone knows his stance on the lower-classes, surely he is a martyr to them." Minard mused.

"And their main group calls themselves Les Amis de l'ABC. Their headquarters is a café called the ABC Café."

Javert felt as though the floor dropped a foot beneath him.

"And does anyone know where that is?" Vipond asked.

"I do." Javert said quietly, staring hard into the table.

"Then dispatch a portion of your men there. I want at least one inspector with three other officers patrolling the area at all times."

"Yes, Monsieur Prefect."

"Minard, are your men ready?"

"Yes, Monsieur Prefect. They have been breaking up the small riots and demonstrations, they are ready in case anything should happen."

"Good, good. And Javert, when it happens-"

"-I will lead my men alongside Minard's and assist the National Guard in any way I can."

Vipond gave an approving nod. "Well, if that's all we have, meeting adjourned. Stay close, men. There's no telling what will happen with Lamarque down and these 'Amis' plotting. If anyone hears or sees or so much as smells anything at all, I want it reported to me immediately. Good day."

All the men save for Javert and Vipond rose immediately, bowing their exits. After what felt like an eternity, Javert slowly began to stand and pushed his chair in once he was up. The ABC Café. No, anywhere but that. Anywhere else.

"Say, Javert," Viponds voice cut through his thoughts, "how do you know where that place is?"

Somehow, he could not tear his eyes from the table. It surprised him that his stare had not bore two circular holes into the wood already.

"It… it is the place of the riot where I had gotten injured. Also, it is right next to where Mademoiselle Barbier's shop and place of residence is."

"Does she know?"

She must have. She had to.

"No" Javert said.

"You should keep it that way. For her safety. It's not my place, but I'd recommend getting her to relocate for the next few weeks. Just in case."

"Yes, Monsieur."

"When this madness passes, you should bring Lilybet and have dinner at my home. I know my wife took a liking to her and God knows I'm impressed at the difference she's made in you."

"I would be honored, sir. I am sure she would be as well."

"I know how dedicated you are to your job, Javert. And I respect you for it- hell, it's what's gotten you this far. But remember that it's not all you have. It's okay to make family your priority. It's why we're in law enforcement. To keep the ones we love safe. Just remember that occasionally."

Javert blinked at the man coolly, impassively, while his insides were churning like a rickety boat in a hurricane. "Thank you, Monsieur Vipond." Was all he could say. The older man nodded, sticking his hand out. They shook and Javert exited the room, wanting nothing more than to get on his horse and gallop to Lilybet's shop, make her gather her things, and send her on a carriage to her uncle's farm in the country.

But no, she would never. He knew her well enough for that. Nor would he want her staying with any friends- Javert would not feel comfortable unless he knew she was safe and out of the way.

The solution hit him just as he arrived in his office and, for once in his life, he wished that the clock would move faster to the end of his shift.

* * *

It was four in the afternoon already and not a single customer so much as passed the shop. In fact, Elisabet felt like her whole street was slowly being deserted.

The café at the end of the street, however, only seemed to grow brighter.

After wiping the counter for the fifth time today, Elisabet huffed and leaned on her elbow. Her eyes were drawn to the ABC Café as sheepishly as a boy who couldn't stop staring at a lewd picture.

She glanced at the clock again. Surely nobody would miss if she left for an hour or so- she was closing at six, anyway. Elisabet knew she had to try and see at least one of them.

But wait. What if none of them were there? What if there were others, still with their cause there, who recognized her? Though she still had been able to help the poor, the news of her engagement had spread to those that were a part of the demonstrations and riots. It was these people that no longer frequented Elisabet's shop, and these people that gave a wide berth when she walked by on the street. Surely she would be unwelcome in their own territory.

Or, what was worse, maybe they _all_ were there. Maybe it was another one of their meetings.

No, she told herself. She had to take the chance.

After fifteen minutes of pacing and senseless muttering, Elisabet took a deep breath and scribbled a note.

_Will return at 5._

With a deep breath, she set off down the street.

The doors of the ABC Café felt as if they were made of lead when Elisabet pushed them open. Keeping her head bowed, she opened the door only slightly and slipped in, not wanting to draw any attention to herself whatsoever. When she mustered the courage to raise her eyes, she let out a breathless sound of relief.

There were a few people milling about, but not many. Sitting at the bar by himself, wine in hand, was Grantaire.

With a start, Elisabet realized that she really didn't have a plan for what to do next.

She shuffled her feet.

She sniffled and rubbed her nose.

She cracked her fingers.

When Grantaire happened to look up by chance, she forced herself to keep her head up as well.

Despite not seeing her in months, the boy recognized her right away. Or at least, she thought he did- after all, how many people did he greet with wide eyes and a mouth shaped like an 'O'?

"Hi" she said with an awkward wave, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

He stared at her dumbly, his brow furrowed. "What are you- how did- I- uh- hi."

She did not move, nor did he ask her to.

"I'm going to sit at the bar now." She announced to him.

"Okay" he responded.

Following through with her words, Elisabet slowly walked over to the bar and took a seat in one of the rickety wooden chairs. She glanced over at Grantaire. He had gotten thinner, she noticed, more severe. Still, he was not yet at the level of Enjolras, she was relieved to see. She could still see the relaxed, charming boy she knew.

"Is there a reason why you're here?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Then why are you so quiet?"

"There's just… so much to say. It's hard to start."

Grantaire sighed impatiently, still staring forward.

"Why won't you look at me?" Elisabet pressed.

"Because," he started impatiently, speaking softly and looking around as if she was not there, "I can't be seen talking to you. None of us can."

She expected something along those lines; still, that did not mean that it didn't sting her.

"But I have to talk to you!" she exclaimed, putting her hand on his elbow.

He pulled away quickly, "I _can't_. I'm sorry."

What little headway and goals Elisabet had reached in life, she reached by not taking 'no' for an answer. When she wanted something done, it would be done. This was no exception.

She ordered a glass of white wine from the bartender and took a casual sip, resting her chin on her elbow and mimicking Grantaire's covert behavior.

"You will come to my shop with me right now and give me the time of day or else I will walk straight to the police station and tell the Inspecteur Général everything I know."

"You haven't already?"

"Are you sitting in a bar or a jail cell?"

"You wouldn't dare."

Elisabet did not respond. Instead, she merely took a final sip before shrugging her shoulders and getting up to leave.

"Okay wait," Grantaire broke, taking her shoulder to keep her from going, "fine."

"Good," Elisabet said briskly, satisfied that he believed her bluff, "I am going to look at you pleadingly right now and you'll turn away, then I'm going to leave looking defeated. You will follow in five minutes and meet me in the supply room of the shop."

"Fine."

"Oh, and Grantaire?"

"What?"

"Pay for my drink as well."

With that, Elisabet did exactly as she described, and he obeyed.

When the door slammed upstairs, Elisabet immediately straightened herself, then leaned on one of the crates in her best attempt to look casual.

The crate slipped and she just managed to catch herself in time for Grantaire to appear on the base of the stairs.

He raised his hands and let them fall back to his sides, looking around. "Well?"

Without warning, Elisabet walked quickly over to Grantaire and wrapped her arms about him tightly. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she would feel a whisp of the normalcy of what her life used to be.

He hugged back and, for a moment, she almost felt like she could turn back the clock, back to when she felt like everything could be okay.

When he let go, a cold shiver crept up her spine and Elisabet was thrust painfully back into the present.

"You can't do this." She said suddenly.

"What?"

"This. All of this. You know…" she trailed off, a childish fear of going into details setting in.

Grantaire exhaled and rolled his eyes, catching on. "Look, I'm not even supposed to be talking to you because-"

"-because Enjolras doesn't want any of you talking to me because I am way too close to the police and I was the one who informed the police about your meeting that turned into a riot. Am I hot or cold?"

"How did you-"

"I ran into Lesgles."

"What else did he tell you?" Grantaire asked, getting serious.

"Calm the hell down, he didn't tell me any of your precious revolutionary secrets. But I want you to know that all of your reasons for not trusting me are bullshit."

"Oh, are they, now?"

"_Yes. _I didn't tell anybody anything. I don't know who broke up your meeting, but I'm not responsible for it turning into a riot and I'm certainly not the reason the police were there."

"I want to believe you."

"But you don't."

"Well… it's- Enjolras said-"

"Enjolras said, Enjolras said!" Elisabet's voice scrunched up in frustration and she didn't bother to keep her voice low any longer. "I don't give a damn what Enjolras said! I'm your friend. You know me. And I knew you once. I knew him, too. What ever happened to my boys? Where's little Gavroche? You're dedicating your lives to suicide! Do you know who those new officers on horseback are? The ones that hover around all of your demonstrations? They're the national guard. I know what you feel, I feel the same way when I see them on the streets every day. But you know what I do? I help them. I give them medicine. I don't rebel against the government. This isn't your fight. We live in a time where society has a perverse and screwed up sense of justice, believe me, I know. But all this will end in is death- yours, not the king's. They don't give a damn who they kill, but I do. I give a damn that you are young men who haven't even begun to live your lives and you're throwing them away. I'm not helping you, I'm not helping the police. I'm trying to stop this. I'm trying to keep you all safe."

He was quiet for a moment, looking down. "I understand how you feel. And I trust you. But Enjolras believes-"

"-no, no more what Enjolras believes in. What do _you_ believe in?"

"Him."

He met her eyes with a hard stare and, for the first time, Elisabet truly felt defeated.

"So there's no changing your mind, then." She said softly.

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Help us."

"I can't."

"Then make your peace with yourself. Make your peace with Enjolras. Whatever happens, whoever dies, it won't be your fault. It is not your duty to save us or stop us. We are grown men and our actions affect only us. They are our consequences only. I'm still your friend, Mademoiselle Lilybet. I trust that you're telling me the truth. Listen, I'll see what I can do with Enjolras, okay? I won't tell him you tried to stop us and I won't tell him you threatened to tell the police if I didn't come here. I'll try to get him to believe you, too. At the very least, I can get Gavroche to pay you a visit. He has no business in those meetings, anyway."

She nodded numbly, looking down at her feet so that he wouldn't see her blink out two tears. "So that's it then." She said thinly.

"That's it."

"Would you want to stay for a bit and help me out? For old times' sake, maybe? I can pay you."

"I can't. I have to be back at the café. Maybe sometime next week. Oh, and don't try and visit there again. You were lucky it was just me there."

"Fine. I'll walk you up." And so, Elisabet hugged her dear drunkard one last time, her stomach slowly sinking, before taking slow, heavy steps back to the main room. She stood outside of her shop, watching until the doors of the café slammed shut behind him.

Out of habit, she turned to her box and felt for orders. To her surprise, she felt a slip of paper under her fingers and pulled out her first order in almost a week. She looked at the clock- they wouldn't come by until six thirty, half an hour after closing time. Whoever this was, they were either inconsiderate or simple.

_…our actions affect only us…_

"You have no idea" Elisabet said sardonically as she slammed an empty crate into the ground in anger, surprised at her own strength as the planks of wood flew about the floor.

* * *

Javert was not tired by the walk to Lilybet's shop, but the heavy, damp air that had been present these past few days created a perpetual moistness that clung to his skin uncomfortably. There would be a storm coming soon, he knew. He just wished it would come early and end all of the humidity.

He stopped just outside of the door and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow in an effort to make himself look more presentable. To his surprise, the sign on the door still said 'open' and he could clearly see her through the window, mulling about behind the counter. That was strange- she usually closed the shop the moment the clock struck six, now it was nearly half an hour past…

No, he had no time to think about such trivial matters. He was there for one purpose only.

Javert had already thought out all the details; he would keep her in the guest room that she was in the last time she stayed over, and he himself would sleep on the couch downstairs. His room was in close proximity to the guest room, and he would not have her waking up in the middle of the night again to find him whimpering and embarrassing himself in his sleep. The arrangement would only last a short time, he wagered.

And yet, when he remembered why it was happening in the first place, he prayed that it would continue for the longest time possible.

Or perhaps, he thought, she would insist on sleeping in the same bed as him? Javert knew Lilybet, and he knew that she would remember him in his weak, unconscious state. No doubt she would want to stay with him because she thought she would prevent the dreams. But no, he would not allow that.

Shaking his head back to reality, Javert pushed open the door and walked softly in- even so, the little bell chimed a high pitched tinkle to signal the arrival of a new customer.

Lilybet looked up with the polite, expectant look of a shopkeeper and it soon turned to a look of surprised delight when she saw Javert in front of her.

"Hey there" she beamed, "I didn't know you were coming today."

He walked closer until he was on the other side of the counter. Javert leaned in, "I have important matters to discuss-"

The bell tinkled again, clipping the end of his sentence. A young girl who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties walked into the shop. She had blonde curls and large, blue eyes. She looked almost fairy-like, Javert thought in passing.

"How may I help you?" Lilybet asked, moving away from Javert. He stepped to the side obligingly.

"My father sent me to fetch an order he placed for six thirty? Do you have something for 'Fauchelevant'?"

"Let's see… I have an order here for six thirty, but it's under the name 'Cosette'."

The girl smiled knowingly, nodding. "Papa is always considerate to me" she said to herself. "Yes, that is mine."

The business exchange passed quickly and the girl was out the door again. As soon as she left, Lilybet exhaled, irritated, and changed the sign to 'closed'.

"I thought you close at six?" Javert asked.

"I do, but then I got this order here for six thirty. What could I do?"

"Tell her you were closed."

"Nah, one customer after store hours is better than no customers all day."

"You have had no customers?"

"For the past few days."

Javert furrowed his brow. So the people knew it, too.

"What is it you needed to discuss?"

Javert cleared his throat and spoke professionally. This was not an emotional decision, it was a professional one. He pledged to keep people safe, so he was starting with Lilybet.

"Due to the increasing tensions between the government and the rebels, I must ask you to take up temporary residence in my home until this… until this blows over."

"You mean until they actually decide to rebel."

"…Yes."

"No." she shrugged her shoulders matter-of-factly.

"No?" Javert asked incredulously, thrown off-guard. Of all the scenarios he imagined, this was not one of them.

"No." she repeated firmly, wiping the counter one last time before turning and going down to her supply room.

Normally, Javert would not even ask her to stay over until they were wed and she had to live in his home; however, with the present situation, he would not take no for an answer.

He followed her downstairs where he watched her put away the rag and locking up her materials.

"I must insist." Javert said.

"I must insist against it."

"Why?"

Lilybet turned to him and gave a humorless laugh. "Why? You want me to leave my shop , close it without any word or warning, and hide out in your house all by myself all day long, waiting for the day I hear shots outside the window and you don't come home because you're lying dead at the foot of a barricade?"

"I want you safe."

"I _am _safe."

Though he remained outwardly emotionless, Javert was getting impatient with her stubborn ignorance. How was it possible that she could not see the dangers literally right outside her door? Or did she _want _to be here, to be right near the schoolboys as they committed treason?

No. Javert had to put any suspicions aside; what mattered now was that she come with him. Whether she wanted to or not, he was going to ensure that she was safe.

He walked forward sharply and Lilybet matched him going backwards step for step until her back hit the wall. Her eyes widened briefly when Javert closed in and he thought he saw a hint of fear in her eyes at his sudden approach. He brushed aside the momentary guilt he felt.

"Do you realize the danger you could be in? I have classified intelligence that the heart of this rebellion is the café that your schoolboys so love right at the end of the street. If they still trust you, they will attempt to use your shop for a safeguard and pull you into harm's way. If they do not, then they may try to use you- perhaps kill you as a warning. These are trigger-happy boys. They believe this is nothing more than sporting, killing you will be no more than shooting down a fox."

"And you think that cornering me like one will make me listen to you?" Anger flickered in her eyes now as Lilybet threw her shoulders back and looked up into Javert's face challengingly. Suddenly, he realized that putting her up against the wall- quite literally- may not have been the best of ideas. "I'm not a child, I'm sick of everything spinning out of control in my life! I'm standing here, tied to the ground, while everything I know and love is going to absolute shit! Now you come along and you're trying to force me to hide away from my own home!"

Lilybet waved her arms impatiently, trying to get away from him. She was stubborn, Javert knew, but he was too.

He managed to catch her forearms and held them close. "Listen to me" he said quietly in his most soothing voice that he normally reserved for dealing with hysterical witnesses and relations of convicts when he had to inform them of said convict's execution date. "I do not know when, I do not know how, but Paris will soon be turned on its head. I am not forcing you into anything. You know of my position and you know of my duty. If not for yourself, then do it for me- if anything should befall me, I want to at least know that you are safe. If you would like, I will arrange for you to be sent to the country to your uncle's home-"

"-I am not letting you ship me off to the country-"

"-then stay with me. You will still be in Paris." Javert loosened his grip a bit and she slackened. Sensing a hole in her resolve, he switched his tone to a gentler one. "You wanted us to have a life together, and after this is over we can. But we both must be alive. Please, I will make sure you are safe. When I am not there you will have Sophie to attend to your every need, I will see to anything that you require to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Shops have been closing up and down this street, one more will not be out of the blue. Please, let me keep you out of harm's way."

Lilybet's lower lip trembled, her gray blue eyes awash with conflicting emotions. Javert tightened his grip on her forearms again, a fear hitting him that she would fall if he did not.

"I could go stay with Renee's family, or Rachel-"

"-no, I want to _know _that you are safe. I want to see you."

"I can't go."

"Yes you can. What could you do here? You cannot stop this from happening, you cannot stop them from their crimes-" Javert stopped when a low whine came from Lilybet's throat. He had struck a nerve, he assumed. Was this why she was so melancholy these past few months? Had she really thought that she could put a stop to these self-righteous schoolboys? So that was what she meant those months ago when she told him she was scared; it was not for herself, it was for these schoolboys. It was for Javert.

He had always predicted it, that her naïve optimism would hurt her- now it has, and he could see her stifling her tears. So why did he feel guilt for it?

He let go of her arms and Lilybet slowly neared him until she was practically leaning up against him. Javert wrapped his arms around her in response, cursing himself for his poor choice of words and overcome with protectiveness.

"It'll be my fault if they die."

"You are powerless."

She clutched his uniform, shaking in her attempt to not cry. Powerless? That was definitely the wrong word to use.

Javert tried to correct himself as she tucked her head under his chin. "No, not powerless, what I mean was you would not be responsible for their deaths any more than you might be for mine-"

"-just stop talking." She cut harshly.

"Right."

Lilybet let go and stepped back, leaning against the wall and rubbing her successfully tearless eyes. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for, Javert admired.

"I don't want to go." She announced.

"You must-"

"-_but_, if it'll give you some peace of mind, then fine."

"Good."

"But I'm not happy about it. This isn't because you're forcing me, it's my choice."

Javert nodded, afraid that to say anything else would reverse his progress. He knew that this was a blow to Lilybet's ego, that she knew, on some level at least, that Javert would not leave her with a choice. He was going to keep her as far away from the danger as possible.

Lilybet sighed and put her hand on her forehead. "You really care about me that much."

"Of course."

"What if it's weeks before it…"

"Then you will stay for however long you need to. Your safety is important."

"And what of your safety?"

Javert could not bring himself to lie to her.

"I am Inspecteur Général" he said simply, hoping that she would take it in a positive way.

She was quiet for a while; he could practically hear the gears turning in her head.

Whether Lilybet had seen that he was right or simply given up, he did not know. The important thing was she crossed her arms and shook her head, finally saying, "Alright. Alright. I'm not coming tonight, though."

"You must come as soon as possible."

"Tonight is too short notice. I need time to clean things up around here- I'm guessing you're not going to let me come back here?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right. Well then I'll be by tomorrow night."

"I will send a carriage for you at seven, then."

"No, you won't. I'll come by myself."

"Then I will walk you-"

"-by. Myself. I'll be at your door at seven."

He wanted to insist on picking her up. He wanted to ask why she wanted to be on her own. He wanted to question her on her attempts to stop these boys.

In the end, Javert knew that her 'yes' was already a tenuous one, and it was better off to leave it there.

"Very well."

"Want to stay for a little bit?" she asked.

"I am afraid I must-" Javert swallowed the rest of his sentence when he saw the droop in Lilybet's shoulders. "What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened." There was no doubt about it: now that Javert had time to get a good look at her, he noticed her face was more troubled than usual. It was strange, he never thought he would be so affected by someone else's misery, and yet here he was, pained for no reason of his own.

She waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing. Really, nothing. Not something I want to talk about. I'm sorry."

The hard look she gave him told Javert that she would hear no more on the matter. Very well, when she was ready to tell him, he would listen. Besides, now that he knew what the real source of her fears was, he thought he had an idea.

He sighed. So she did not want to tell him her problems- still, he could do something. "I think I may be able to stay for an hour or so."

She brightened at that. "I'll make you dinner." Lilybet began walking forward and stopped, turning to Javert once more. "Oh, and I do appreciate you caring enough to have me over. It just feels good that… that whatever else, I'll always still have you. I feel safer with you than anywhere else."

She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace and Javert put one hand on her back, patting it reassuringly. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for her willingness. Now, at least, whatever happened to Javert, he would know that Lilybet was safe. He only hoped that God would return him safely to her. As a devout Catholic, he knew God favored the righteous. Javert tried his best to live a life free of the dirt and sin he was born into, and he had been rewarded with a beautiful, smart, caring, idealistic young woman that loved him. He just hoped that he would live long enough to try and give her a proper life, maybe even a family of his own.

With one worry crossed off of his mind, Javert moved on to the next- the turmoil going on in the Palais du Justice, constant impromptu meetings, and being forced to trust Thenardier through it all.

* * *

**_Closing A/N:__ For the Grantaire referencing Enjolras thing, I kind of drew from the book, because he was the one who didn't really feel as passionately for the revolution as the others, but the one thing he said he believed in was Enjolras. Thanks again!_**


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